


Rick Sorkin, Your Life Is Calling

by Spot_On60



Category: Suits (TV), Suits - Fandom
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-23 18:45:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10725048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spot_On60/pseuds/Spot_On60
Summary: Rick Sorkin wants to reclaim what's his.For Harvey everything was disjointed. He felt off kilter. All of the events seemed to replay in his mind backwards or somehow inside out. It was as confused, jumbled and incoherent as the telling of the story itself.Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings means read at your own risk.





	1. The Incident

**I choose not to use archive warnings.**

 

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~¥¥¥~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

 

 

 

"Is he dead?"

"Yes."

 

 

Harvey's hands went to his hair. He again laced his fingers behind his head and walked in circles. He kept expecting the adrenaline to run out, but it hadn't. It pumped through his system as though he were being powered by steam. There had been too much fuel and now the buildup of pressure threatened to blow him into oblivion. Everything was disjointed. He felt off kilter. All of the events seemed to replay in his mind backwards or somehow inside out. It was confused, jumbled and incoherent.

He looked down at Mike. So much blood. It was across his chest, it was seeping out from under his body. Even with the overheads on, the lighting was poor giving the blood an appearance of spilt ink on the carpet. Harvey's suit jacket, the one he had used to try to staunch the bleeding, now discarded, was soaked in blood. Harvey's hands were covered in it, his shirt and no doubt his pants as well.

There was far too much talking going on and it grated on him. Mike should have quiet. They should respect that. But no. Instead the SWAT team had kept Harvey away from him. They all crowded around the form lying motionless on the floor. One of them called into a radio attached to his shoulder. They seemed to be describing the scene to each other like they couldn't see for themselves. A scene it seemed he had somehow been lost in, forgotten.

"Is any of this your blood?" someone asked him.

"What? No. No, it's not." Harvey told the man fully rigged in riot gear.

"We're going to have you checked out. There are EMTs on the way up." He pulled an office chair away from one of the work tables. "Sit down." Harvey obeyed. What was up with that? Harvey took orders from no one, especially now Jessica was gone. "Tell me your name, sir."

He again obeyed. "Harvey. Harvey Specter."

"May I call you Harvey?"

Harvey nodded. The guy could call him anything he wanted. He had a gentle demeanor, a quiet voice. It was such a contrast to the heavy armor he was wearing and the weapons strapped to him. Speaking of which. He called one of the other SWAT members over.

"Take these for me." He was handing his weapons over to his associate, saying he was going to stay with Harvey. It went unspoken his concentration would be such his arms needed to be otherwise secured.

"Afraid I'll try to take a gun?"

"You've had a shock, Harvey. It's better all my attention is on you right now." He removed his helmet as he knelt on one knee before the attorney. He cautiously took Harvey's hand. Prepared to let go should Harvey draw away.

But he didn't. Harvey was surprised how comforting it was to have his hand held by this stranger. He hadn't noticed how his hands shook. "What's your name?"

"Aaron. Aaron Tiegs."

He hadn't stopped moving his fingers over Harvey's hand. Harvey wondered if it was a technique he had learned. Maybe it was part of some "How to Deal With People Caught Up in Workplace Shootings" training.

"Are you the one who texted? Let us know you were here?"

"Yeah. I used Mike's phone." Saying his name drew Harvey's eyes to the people in riot gear blocking his view of Mike. With them on the floor and milling about all Harvey could see were Mike's shoes.

Aaron leaned into his line of vision, "Are you feeling chilled, Harvey?"

Now that he mentioned it, "Maybe a little."

There was suddenly added commotion. It seemed to Harvey the population of the room doubled. Aaron glanced behind then stood. He dropped Harvey's hand leaving him feeling somewhat bereft. Aaron instead rested his hand on a shoulder.

Harvey watched as police officers in standard uniforms joined the armored SWAT members and then a path was made for EMTs jogging in with a stretcher, carrying equipment and bags. Aaron's hand slid across Harvey's shoulders and upper back as he called into the group, "This gentleman needs attention."

A second pair of EMTs made their way to Harvey. Aaron was talking low to them, but Harvey wouldn't have heard what was said. He was too distracted, trying to see around the people blocking his view of Mike.

"Harvey? These gentlemen are going to take care of you," Aaron was saying.

"I don't need taking care of."

"Mr. Specter, Captain Tiegs suspects you maybe in shock," one of the paramedics said to him.

Harvey wanted them to go away. They were blocking his view. He swatted at one of them as he attempted to wrap a BP cuff around Harvey's arm. Aaron saw the exchange and returned to Harvey, taking the blanket from the second EMT.

"Let them do their job, okay? Then we'll get you out of here," he said as he draped the blanket around Harvey's shoulders.

Harvey allow his blood pressure to be checked. He let them clip the heart rate and oxygen meter to his finger tip and allowed the pen lights to be flicked in his eyes, but was becoming more and more agitated with each additional question they asked. He finally blew when he saw a stretcher rising to waist height and Mike was no longer on the floor as it was being rolled out.

"Where are you taking him?!" Harvey shouted into the room.

"It's alright Harvey..." Aaron tried to soothe.

"No it's not! I have to go with him." Harvey stood and tried to get past the paramedics blocking him.

"We'll be done in just a minute, Mr. Specter. Please sit down."

That wasn't cutting it with Harvey. They were done with their exam and were now filling out paperwork. He didn't need to sit around for that. He tried to push by one of them.

"Alright. That's enough of that," one of the paramedics chastised while pressing a hand to his chest.

They didn't get it. Aaron did. "I'm going to escort Mr. Specter out. Come with me Harvey."

"We're not done with him," one of the men stated.

"Well follow along then." Aaron was clearing a path for Harvey.

Hurrying down the hallway when they reach reception they just saw the stretcher being wheeled into an elevator. "Hold up!" Aaron shouted. "We're coming down with you."

Just before taking the corner into the elevator bay Harvey had a view of the body further down the corridor. It was surrounded by another set of SWAT members and police officers. He couldn't give it much thought, this body of a gunman. Someone who had come with the purpose of killing Mike. He only glanced at the body, had to get to Mike's side. He didn't want him to be carried out by strangers, alone.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~¥¥¥~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"Sorkin! Get in here!"

Rick sighed. _Now_ _what?_ There didn't seem to be a day that went by that his boss, Eric Corman, didn't have a disparaging word for him. Standing from his desk, the second one to the right of the receptionist's desk. He walked past his neighbor Bill Treater and around reception; around the vacant reception desk. Vacant because Paula, the most recent receptionist, had walked out in a huff over a week prior.

You couldn't blame her. She was no different than the six receptionists before her. Following Corman's lead more than half of the rest of the staff treated her like garbage. Treated her like she was insignificant and inferior. Treated her the way Sorkin felt. Probably the way they all felt. Sometimes it feels good to kick the dog.

He had been at Corman, Eric and Associates for over two years now. He should have done more than balk when he realized the name of the firm added a comma to make it appear larger, more prestigious than it actualły was. He should have run. But no, he was desperate for a new job. He needed a better income, even as small as the increase had been.

 

He needed an increase because his loans for college were racking up interest with every breath he took. He continued on with his assistant public defender job while he sent out resumé after resumé. Filled out a myriad of applications. It seemed he was never quite what the law firm was looking for; although, after one particularly promising application he was given a bone.

He was on his third callback with a well respected family firm when the interview was brought up short by a knock on the door. A red-eyed older woman asked to speak with Dan, the interviewer, privately. From the other side of the not completely closed door he heard a loud, "Oh my god!" followed by the sound of a woman sobbing.

Returning to the room, his interviewer informed him he would need to cut it short. He was terribly sorry, but there was an emergency that needed his attention. He would contact Rick within a few days.

And contact him he did with a ubiquitous thanks, but no thanks form letter. There was, however, a hand written note at the bottom.

 

 _Rick,_  
My apologies for so unceremoniously rushing you out the door when we last spoke. Due to unforeseen circumstances we will not be taking on any new hires at this time. You were my choice candidate and I wish we could have come to an employment agreement.  
I was impressed with not only your class standing at Harvard Law but also your presence in your interviews. There is another quality firm about to conduct interviews for an associate position. I have made a call to them to give you a leg up in their interview process.  
If you are interested please contact Ms. Paulsen using the information on the enclosed business card. I understand they will be starting interviews at the Chilton next week. Should you decide to interview with them, please give my best to Harvey.

_Regards,  
Dan Oberman_

 

That evening he saw on the news a story of attorney Daniel Oberman Sr. succumbing to a heart attack at his desk in his Manhattan law office two days prior. The following morning he wasted no time calling Donna Paulsen to set up an interview time.

Donna as she insisted he call her was a professional and charismatic personality who informed him she had spoken with Dan and was looking forward to Rick's calł. She treated him as though he were a close friend and slotted him into the interview schedule. She rang off by saying she was looking forward to meeting him in person after hearing Dan gush about him to both herself and Harvey Specter.

When he hung up the phone he was shaking in excitement. Harvey Specter? He was going to be interviewing with Harvey fuckin' Specter! He was interviewing with Harvey Specter and he already had a foot in the door!

His life became a build up to the interview. He had one nice suit. It wasn't bespoke, but he had spent a fortune on it and had it tailored to his frame. Off to the cleaners it went so it would be fresh and pressed. Along with the suit he sent his one tailored shirt. It had been purchased and darted at Brooks Bros. It in no way interfered with the clean lines of his suit jacket.

He couldn't decide which tie he should wear. It was down to two. One was a bright navy with a surrealistic dash. It was very modern and very hip with its skinny width. The other was a deep, not bright, tone-on-tone red pin dot. It screamed sophistication and maturity with its wider breadth. It was without doubt a power tie. Wearing pajama pants and a white t-shirt he held up one tie then the other in front of his bathroom mirror. _Dress for the job you want_ ran through his head.

"I want to be a power player in New York City law," he told himself with confidence. Red it was.

He made sure he got enough sleep and kept his meals to healthy selections. He wanted to give the appearance of being strong and vibrant. He spent three afternoons in a row polishing his shoes.

"This is so exciting," Talia squealed repeatedly. "It's everything we dreamed of!" She was walking through his fifth floor, walk-up, studio apartment in nothing but one of Rick's flannel shirts. She held a pint of Ben & Jerry's in one hand and a spoon in the other as she paced about the room.

It was everything they've dreamed of. It was all part of Rick's happily ever after. A job to be envied. A girlfriend to be envied. He'll be in a position to pay off his student loans before he turns fifty, well before he turns fifty. Probably before he's thirty-five.

He and Talia would marry. It would be extravagant. Her wealthy father footing the bill. It will have been over a year since the last time she looked at him with disappointment all over her face. He will have made it, not still trying to make it as he was then.

It was the Saturday before the interview and Rick was standing in the dry cleaners waiting for them to hand over his suit. Twenty minutes later and he wasn't interested in their apologies.

"There's nothing we can do today. As I said we send some items to a lager facility and they aren't open on Saturdays. There is no one to call."

"I need it on Monday. There's just no way around it. I have what could be the most pivotal event of my life. I have to have the suit."

"I'm sorry, sir. There's nothing I can do about it today. As I said I will make sure someone calls first thing Monday morning and we will have it here by the afternoon."

"I'll go pick it up in the morning."

"Oh, I'm sorry but that's not possible. There are no pickups allowed at that location. We will look for it in the morning and have it here for you in the afternoon."

"That's too late!" He had both hands on the counter, leaning on them, stopping himself from balling them. "What about the shirt?"

"Just a moment, please."

Rick's mind was reeling. Should he go buy a new suit? Best option but he couldn't afford it. It wasn't just a matter of money being tight for a while. He didn't have the funds. Didn't have the funds for the purchase. Didn't have the funds to have it tailored. He was lucky if he had five hundred dollars in his savings account.

Talia. He would borrow it from Talia. The question now was he able to have it done in time.

"Your shirt, sir."

Rick paid for the shirt and was out on the sidewalk before he noticed half of the buttons were crushed. If they weren't cracked they were broken. He turned around and went back in.

"You've smashed all but one of the buttons!"

The man behind the counter lifted his pencil to point to a sign on the wall.

NOT RESPONSIBLE  
FOR  
DAMAGED BUTTONS

Rick thought, _It doesn't get worse._

Back outside he pulled up Talia on his phone.

"Talia."

"Hi baby. I was just thinking about you. Did you get your suit?"

"That's what I was calling about. The dry cleaners have lost it. They think it's at another facility that's closed today. They won't be able to locate it in time for my interview."

"Oh no! What are you going to do?"

"I'd like to head over to Brooks Brothers and get a new one, hopefully have it tailored in time for my appointment Monday."

"That's a great idea!"

"Yeah, it is. Except I haven't got enough available cash to buy one much less have it tailored."

"Do you have any other ideas?"

"I was hoping you would help me out."

"Oh, how?"

"Meet me at the store and put it on your credit card. I'd pay you back just as soon as I can. I'm sure there's a signing bonus involved here."

"I don't know about that, Rick."

"Please Talia. I need help here."

"I don't know if I'm comfortable loaning money to a man."

 _She has got to be kidding._ "Talia, you know I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate."

"But Rick, you really shouldn't be asking your girlfriend for money. There's something sorted about it. I mean what if it becomes habit? I can't be giving you money all the time. What would Daddy say? I keep telling him you're going to get a good position and we won't need to live off of his money."

Rick took several deep breaths. The calming influence he hoped to derive from them didn't make itself apparent. He was this close to hearing his own blood flow. He thought he could already hear a gushing in the artery along his neck.

"Look Talia. The best way to make that all happen is for me to present myself as a professional. This is Harvey Specter. Have you ever seen him? Seen a picture of him?"

"No."

"He is impeccably groomed and outfitted. Half of his aura is his grooming. In order to seal a position with him at his firm I need to look beyond clean and pressed. Do you understand?"

"I guess, but are your other suits even clean? You were saying you were trying to get extra wear out of them before sending them to the cleaners. Do you have to do one of those one hour things?"

"So you won't help me with a new one."

"Well I don't see how I can."

"You understand you would be doing this for the both of us, don't you?"

"Oh that's not even fair! You don't get to put this on me. It's not my fault you don't have the money to buy a fancy suit."

Rick's brain was reeling. Maybe he didn't deserve a position with Harvey Specter at Pearson Hardman. He was currently unable to come up with a respectable argument to explain to Talia calmly that YES! It currently IS her fault he can't afford a new suit!

"Look. Baby. This is a step toward our future. This is a step toward our partnership. Several hundred dollars will seem like chicken feed when I land this position. I..."

"Several hundred dollars?! But that's all I have. I don't get another stipend for ... for like another ten days! What am I suppose to live on?"

"Honey," Rick gritted out through his teeth. "Please listen to what your saying. You are a college student who has everything paid for. You don't pay rent you don't pay for your transportation. The only thing you realły need to buy is food. And ten days worth of food does not cost hundreds of dollars..."

"Rick I thought you loved me for me, not my trust fund."

"I DO love you for you! Talia. I have never asked you for anything before. I've always paid for all of our dates and the bits and baubles you ask for while you drag me around window shopping. I have never asked you for anything. But..."

"Which is why I don't understand why you are now," she was starting to snivel.

"Maybe you could TRY A LITTLE HARDER!"

That snapped her out of it. "I don't appreciate being spoken to that way. I will call you back after I have had a chance to think this conversation over."

And like that, she was gone.

"Fuck!"

Back at his fifth floor walk up studio, Rick searched Yelp for one hour dry cleaners. The closest being forty minutes away via subway and hoofing it a few blocks. Dropping the suit off he told them he would pick it up the following day. He hadn't realized how late it was and needed to get across town to his A.P.D. job. One of the joys of the position was being available Saturday night when all the miscreants were looking for that lawyer that will be provided to them.

Sunday morning came to Rick sometime around 11:30. It had been a long night but he woke feeling like he was on a mission. After retrieving his second suit from the cleaners he spent the rest of the afternoon purchasing and sewing new buttons onto his shirt, pressing it to perfection and polishing his shoes within an inch of their lives. Though he had e-mailed a resume and cover letter to Ms. Paulsen, he still printed out three copies to have on hand. He obsessively charged his phone and iPad to ensure their use in the morning and even took some shoe polish to his briefcase.

 _Gotta get some sleep_ he thought as he scraped what was left of dinner from his plate into the garbage can. After washing the plate and flatware he returned all to where they lived when not in service to him. It was only nine o' clock, but he put himself to bed.

Lying on his back he thought of Talia. She was beautiful and charming. He had always thought he was incredibly lucky to have made that catch. Now, however, he wondered what it was that had so interested him. It could have been her money, though he was pained to even consider it. But what would keep him clinging to someone so wrapped up in themselves? The most telling part of this was, even though he was thinking of her, he wasn't missing her. Not to mention he was a more than a little pissed off at her.

Her father had made a fortune in tech stocks and had the foresight to pullout before the bust. With full size homes on Long Island and the Hamptons, he went with more modest abodes elsewhere: a condo in Vale and an apartment in London. Rick had only been invited to the summer home over too short weekends, never to their home within the city.

It was considered the man's fortress and only special visitors were allowed. That is with the exception of a lavish New Year's Eve event; although, Rick had never been invited to it. He would either meet Talia early in the evening or she would make an appearance after midnight wherever he had spent the evening. He was thinking now how anomalous it seemed that his girlfriend hadn't wanted to spend the entire evening with him.

Rick never felt welcomed by either parent, but Jonathan Waltham was a particularly tough nut to crack. He was closed off in Rick's presence, neither expressive nor seemingly interested. Waltham was a man known for his wit and warmth around close friends and family. Rick saw none of it and he was unable to identify if it was himself personally or any man with an interest in his daughter.

As he slipped closer to sleep he remembered she had offered her driver to deliver him to the interview. That was no doubt no longer in the offing. His mind curled and wrapped back onto the subject of money. More precisely the money he had spent on the lovely Talia in the way of dinners, sports, gifts and other amusements. He considered how he probably could have instead purchased two reasonably stylish suits as his last morsel of consciousness slid away.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~¥¥¥~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"Is it bad, Harvey?"

Those crystal blues, dark in the shadows, were intent on Harvey. Anyone else may have read "Lie to me," but that's not what Harvey saw. He saw Mike's utter and unshakable trust in him. He saw Mike's belief in the knowledge Harvey never steered him in the wrong direction. He knew Mike understood even with all the insults and oftentimes shitty guff Harvey had piled on him over the years, he's never deliberately misguided him.

Harvey stroked Mike's head from his forehead to the side, just over the upper shell of and past his ear. He too whispered. "Yeah, rookie. I think it's bad."

Flat on his back on a file room floor Mike's eyes flashed then settled. Harvey didn't know if it was fear or a reaction to Harvey increasing pressure on the wound. Mike barely nuzzled into the hand that moved from behind his ear to his cheek. Harvey could feel a lump forming tightly in his throat and a stinging behind his eyes.

"Don't cry, Harvey. Things may still turn out alright." Mike had heard the waver in Harvey's voice.

Gawd. That honesty and faith. Here in this darkened room it had the power to undo Harvey.

Reaching upward without aim Mike's hand searched for contact. Harvey took it in his own, but the hand struggled against his grasp. Harvey loosened his hold, only following the hand as it continued seeking.

"I think my eye-hand is a little messed up," Mike noted dryly. Harvey guided the hand to his mouth. Kissing the fingers before burrowing his own cheek into them. Through the faint light he saw Mike's face relaxed slightly. "That's what I wanted. To touch you."

A tear breached, but was escorted away by a stroke of Mike's thumb. Harvey had been by his side using his own suit jacket to press into the gunshot wound. He had been doing a great job of holding himself together. But he needed to staunch the tears, knowing damn well once he got started he may not be able to regain control over his vibrating nerves. His legendary cool facade was fractured.

Mike appreciated the effort and was doing his best as well to stay calm. Half of that battle was won for him by having Harvey there and watching over him. He had an innate belief Harvey would keep him safe. He tuned into the knowledge the longer the two of them could keep their wits, the better their chances of getting out of this nightmare.

"Who the fuck is this?" Harvey asked, barely audible, not really expecting an answer.

"It's Rick Sorkin," Mike whispered. "I had a clear view. It's definitely him."

"Who the hell is that?"

"He's the guy whose place I took when you were interviewing at the Chilton."

"How do you know that?"

"Can we talk about it later?"

Harvey still held Mike's hand in his own. He squeezed it at the same time he again stroked Mike's head. Mike smiled up at him. "I love you Harvey."

This time he leaned down to kiss Mike's forehead. "You know I love you too, don't you Rookie?"

"Yeah. I know. You care," he huffed through a quiet laugh.

Harvey just smiled down on him at the same time pressing again on the wound.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~¥¥¥~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Waking the morning of his interview, Rick had everything prepared and planned for. He had showered, shaved and used a little extra mousse in his hair. With a picture of Harvey Specter in mind he styled his hair upward then thought better of it. He worked it back slightly and added an imprecise part to one side. Perfect. He gave the appearance of being inspired by but not full out copying the legendary attorney.

The full double-windsor knot of his tie fit perfectly into the wide spread of the windsor collar of his shirt. Finally putting on his suit jacket he took a look in the full length mirror attached to his closet door. He rolled his eyes as he saw no matter how well presented the shined shoes, tailored shirt and power tie were, they did little to make his sow's ear of a suit into a silk purse.

With a disgruntled sigh he quadruple checked his briefcase for all the items he thought he could possibly need. He patted his pocket for what must have been the hundredth time to ensure his phone was there. Closing the attaché he took a deep breath before heading out the door.

Despite the suit debacle he was optimistic. He had not only his exceptional grades, but also recommendations from his professors and his supervisor from his internship with the New York DA's office. There was also that foot wedged firmly in the door by Dan Oberman. And, he felt he was on, though still formal, good terms with Mr. Specter's Admin, Ms. Paulsen.

Flagging down a cab was relatively easy in the sea of traffic. It soon came to him it had been so easy because of how slowly traffic was moving. At the rate they were going he would be decidedly late for his interview even having left his apartment with a buffer of time built it. When he saw the subway, he quickly paid off the cabby and scurried down the steps.

The trains were crowded as Rick made his way toward the Chilton. Off the train he was moved with the masses intermittently bumped and swept. Just as he had reached the first step leading the throng back to street level he felt a warmth spread across his chest. He raised his hand touching himself along his tie. He felt warm, yet within a minute as fresh air from the street drafted down the stairs he was hit with an instant chill.

Confused for only a few seconds when he moved his hand from his chest and realized a dampness settled on both. Looking down as he climbed up the stairs he saw his entire front: his shirt, his tie, his jacket were wet. There were even splashes on his shoes. In his momentary shock he paused on a step. The woman who had been tailgating behind him ran into his back. He heard an annoyed tisk and sigh emit from her.

He regained his bearings and took two steps at a time to catch up with the person ahead of him just as they burst out of the passage and into the light of the sidewalk. He too gained the openness of being back on ground level and took several steps forward before pausing again to look down.

Splashed across his white Pima cotton shirt was coffee. Not a few specks, not a dribble, but what appeared to be the entire contents of a grande sized cup of black coffee. He spun, chasing the crowd with his eyes. And there he was. There was a man who was just dropping a paper coffee cup into a trash can and was shaking the dampness from his hand.

He seemed torn as to whether or not he should wipe his hand on the pants of his suit. He looked up obviously looking for guidance from the trove of pedestrians on their way to their chosen areas of financial gain. His eyes landed on Rick who now held his also wet briefcase out to one side and his other hand away from the offending brown stain across his chest.

Though unaware of it himself his face was contorted in a mixture of surprise and fury. The man by the refuse can quickly wiped his hand across his pant leg before breaking into a jog down the sidewalk. There was no way in hell he was waiting for Rick to reach him where he stood. Not with the look on his face or the determined steps he was taking in the man's direction.

As soon as the man broke into a trot Rick stopped. Looking down again he saw there was a white stripe down his front, down the placket of his shirt where his expensive wide tie had shielded the shirt from the coffee. Getting his bearings he searched the street for the hotel.

It was now Rick who was jogging in the direction of the Chilton. Blasting through the front door his eyes landed on exactly what he was hoping for, a gift shop off the main lobby of the hotel. He didn't see the odd looks that followed him across the lobby.

Upon entering, he located a young woman straightening a display of I ❤️ New York coffee mugs. From halfway across the little shop Rick asked, "Do you sell shirts and ties?!"

A bit taken aback the the clerk stuttered, "Uh..Uh..Y..yes....we do." She was pointing across the store to a display of gawd awful ties and T shirts.

Winding his way to the area his heart sank to see the pathetic selection of skinny ties in anything but professional colors and patterns. He dropped his briefcase and began digging through hoping against hope there was at least one that didn't look like it belonging with a leather jacket in a nightclub.

The sales associate worked up the nerve to approach the somewhat crazed looking young man. "Can I help you with anything?"

"I don't think anything will help now." He looked briefly at his watch. Five minutes to ten and interview time.

"I could try." Rick thought she really was rather sweet.

"I have the interview of a lifetime upstairs here in five minutes. My good suit was lost by the cleaners. My girlfriend, no make that my EXgirlfriend, refused to loan me money to buy a new one. So I'm wearing this piece of garbage and some asshole poured coffee down the front of me. I was hoping you'd have a shirt and tie I could buy and change into and still hopefully make the appointment."

 _He looks so defeated she thought_. "I might be able to help you. Wait here." She made a beeline for the back of the store, presumably slipping into the stockroom or office and was back out again in less than a minute holding a shirt on a hanger covered by a dry cleaner's plastic. She raised her other hand to display a tie.

"My dad asked me to pick up his cleaning," she waggled the shirt, "And this tie was sent to us by accident. I was going to send it back since it doesn't realły go with the other ones."

No it sure didn't go with the others. It was perfectly presentable. Rick just stared.

She snapped her fingers, "Hello! Get your jacket and shirt off."

Rick jumped to it. He was quickly down to a slightly damp undershirt. He looked at her questioningly. She scrunched her nose and shook her head. Off came the undershirt and he spun into the dress shirt she was holding up for him. He buttoned his way up to the neck feeling himself starting to again falter. The shirt was huge.

"Tuck it in and push all the extra to the back," the young woman said as she glanced away from the mirror she was using to knot the tie around her own neck.

As Rick finished sliding the fabric around his waist the salesgirl flipped the knotted tie over his neck for him to settle into place. Adding the slightly wet jacket he checked himself in the mirror. "It's not bad. I don't know how to thank you for this."

"How much money you got?"

He dug out his wallet and opened the billfold. She daintily picked out the two twenty dollar bills leaving him with four dollars. "Go!" She gave him a shove. "We'll settle up when you come back down."

A few eyes were raised as Rick ran across the lobby to the elevators. Before he had reached the call button the elevator doors opened. Rick did a side to side dance with the young man exiting. He couldn't help noticing the poorly fitted suit and obviously cheap, striped, button-down shirt with a nondescript navy tie. He carried a briefcase and his crystal blue eyes positively twinkled from the smile on his face.

"Pardon me," he grinned at Rick. With a bit of mirth in his voice he said, "I'll just stand here."

"Sorry, I'm a little late for an interview."

"Oh. Well good luck." Something occurred to Mike Ross promoting a small fib, "Don't I know you from somewhere? What's your name?"

"Rick. Rick Sorkin."

Mike's smile briefly faltered. Rick hadn't seen it as his attention was focused on the elevator keypad. He pressed the twentieth floor button.

Mike was standing half in and half out of the car, "Uhh... I'm mistaken. Good luck."

Rick smiled wide at him, "Thanks."

 

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Rick was walking down the main hallway of the offices of Pearson, Specter, Litt. He looked in one office to his left. It appeared the occupant had stepped out, maybe to the kitchen to refresh coffee. He glanced at the nameplate on the door. "Rachel Zane." A muscle in Rick's neck spasmed tugging a tendon. His head jerked without warning.

This was his girlfriend's office. "Rachel," he murmured aloud as he stepped inside. Making his way around the desk he noted there was a partially filled-in template for a brief on the screen of her computer. _She just went for coffee_ ran through his head. Next to the monitor was her picture. It showed a smiling Rachel, eyes closed, held tight by Robert Zane who was kissing her temple. Her and her father, one of the formidable partners of Rand, Kaldor  & Zane. _My father-in-Law_ Rick's mind added for him.

On a wall across from the L shaped desk, just over the console table was a collage frame. The center and largest picture was a group shot. Above and to the side was Rachel with that bitch Donna Paulsen. The two smiling away at the camera. Donna was wearing a sleek form-following dress in a vivid blue. Rachel was wearing a tight skirt and even tighter blouse. The buttons across her bust though pulled taut were valiantly keeping the shirtfront closed. He thought he would need to talk to her about that. She didn't need to be dressing so inappropriately.

Elsewhere in the mix was a picture of Rachel with Jessica Pearson. Rachel in a burgundy evening dress, short sleeved with sheer fabric across her shoulders and dipping between her breasts. Jessica looking as elegant and fierce as ever in a sophisticated, floor-length, white gown. It was obviously bespoke.

There was a clipped out glossy magazine photo. Rick remembered seeing it in New York Magazine. It was a wide angle shot of populated office cubicles. Below it in italics read, _"The Associates of Pearson Hardman work in what's known as the firm's 'Bullpen'."_

This was interesting. Rachel's LSAT score pressed between two pieces of glass in a frameless frame. Another picture of Rachel beside her father, but this one included a woman on her other side. _Must be her mother_ , Rick surmised. _You should know your own mother-in-law his brained chastised._

Rick looked closely at the group shot. It was the same photo he had seen elsewhere in the offices, though this was the first time he studied it. He could identify most of the people in it, but not all. Front and center were Harvey Specter and Louis Litt. Specter's arms hanging down. Rick thought it takes great confidence to look so relaxed without the need to strike a pose. Beside him, Litt stood with his arms crossed over his chest. Variously around the two were Donna Paulsen, Rachel, and a young dark-haired man wearing suit pants and a white buttondown collar oxford with the sleeves rolled up. "IT", Rick said to himself.

There's a heavyset African American woman. She gives the impression she's been there and seen it all. Hadn't he seen her downstairs, in the lobby? And there, just behind Harvey, a bit off to his side stands Mike Ross. He's right in Harvey's space, yet Specter projects no inclination of discomfort. Examining carefully one could see he was leaning back, closing the distance between himself and the younger man behind.

The photo was taken somewhere within these offices as witnessed by the floor to ceiling windows, a particularly distinctive feature of the office space. The photographer was high, overlooking the subjects. The view was downward with each of the subjects tipping their head up to the lens. It's an effective tableau.

He noted from the angle the photo was taken, not only could Harvey be seen to be leaning back, but the viewer could see Ross had one hand in his pant pocket. The angle also allows one to see more than would be expected of Ross' other arm. Much of his pinstripe clad upper arm is exposed and the shoulder pad of his suit coat is lifted. He had that hand, hidden from view, somewhere on Specter. It could be around him with the fingers hidden by Harvey's own arm. Or it's possibly resting on the small of the back or behind a shoulder. No matter where the hand is on Specter he appears to be comfortable with the contact.

Rick feels a surge. He wants to yank the picture off the wall and grind it into the floor with his heal. It should be him invading Harvey Specter's space. He should be the other half of that dynamic duo. Specter and Sorkin, not Specter and Ross or more than likely, Harvey and Mike. But this is the lovely Rachel's office and he won't disturb it.

 

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The elevator doors opened on the twentieth floor of the Chilton Hotel and Rick was met by half a dozen young people all dressed in suits, all carrying briefcases, all reading or typing on their phones. Without looking up they surged forward to board the elevator.

Not until Rick said a sharp, "Excuse me," did any of them even take notice of his presence and attempts to exit.

He pushed his way through and as he found himself in the clear one of the group addressed him. "If you're here for the interview, it's over."

Rick checked his watch; ten fifteen. He gave the speaker a confused head shake.

"Some guy named Sorkin got the job. He was only in there a few minutes. When he left Specter stuck his head out and the secretary went over to talk to him. They had a powwow and she came back to announce the position had been filled. She thanked us for coming and said we could go."

"Sorkin?"

"Yeah. You want to ride down with us?"

"But I'm Sorkin."

"Whatever, dude. You're too late. You coming or not."

Rick didn't know what to say. He realized his head was still shaking no when the elevator doors were solidly closed. He turned in the hallway in time to see the man himself stand half in, half out of the suite doorway.

He was addressing someone within, "Call Jessica. Tell her we were successful....Just a minute." His attention turned to the phone he was handling. "Ray. I'm done early. Is that a problem? Should I get a cab? Okay great. I'll see you in a few."

He turned his head back into the suite. There was a voice coming from within. Specter responded, "Ross. Michael Ross. Be sure to get any paperwork he needs. We do orientation for new hires?"

Rick couldn't hear the response.

"Who does that?"

.................

"Who?"

"Rachel," Rick heard.

"Okay. Well have 'Rachel' meet him in the morning. Since I have the extra time I'm going to stop in on Liz Pruitt. She'll be calling soon for her trust restatement."

.........…..…

"No. Don't. She'll be impressed as hell when I drop in unannounced."

………………

"Meet you back at the office." He took several steps down the hallway toward Rick.

Rick wasn't going to stand on ceremony and made a beeline for the attorney. After only a few steps Specter's phone rang. He was looking straight at Rick, viewing him up and down as he held his phone to his ear and said, "Ray. You here already?"

Rick stopped in the hallway and watched as Specter passed him in the hall. The elevator doors opened as he reached them. It almost appeared the car had been summoned by the great attorney's presence alone. He stepped in the car and pressed a button to his right. The doors slid closed while he appraised Rick and said into the phone, "I'm coming down now. Should be there when you pull up." And he was gone.

Stepping through the open door of the suite he found a lovely redhead just finishing packing files and a computer into a roller bag.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm Rick Sorkin. Are you Donna?"

"Don't you mean you're late?"

"You can't imagine what I've been through to get here."

"Is that what you would tell a judge as you walked into court...." she checked her phone, "....eighteen minutes late?"

"I would hope one would give another the benefit of the doubt."

"Forgiveness isn't mine to give." She grabbed the handle of the roller with one hand and her purse with the other which also held the room keycard.

"May I take your bag for you?"

"Yes. That would be a big help," and handed him her purse.

Flustered, and maybe a tad annoyed he took it none the less. He allowed her to pass through the door before him and stood aside as she closed it behind her and gave it a push and pull to ensure it was indeed shut. Without a word she headed down the hallway to the elevator, her hips moving in a very deliberate swing and roll. When the elevator returned and they stepped in, she waited inside as the doors closed waving back and forth on her heels, waiting for the elevator to begin its descent. Rick suddenly got it and jumped to the floor buttons.

"Too the lobby, Ms. Paulsen?"

"Please."

Rick opened his mouth to speak.

Donna flicked an index finger in the air at the same time she said, "Dup!"

Rick followed her out of the elevator and across the lobby. At the main door she retrieved her handbag and dismissed Rick with a, "Thank you," and a, "You may go now," before stepping through to the outdoors.

Rick spoke to her back, "That's it? You don't even want to know what happened?"

She stopped and looked back at him. "All may have been forgiven had you even tried to make a decent presentation of yourself. Here's a freebie, spend a little time, maybe a little money, on your personal presentation. Puppies need the full package to be able to play with our firm's big dogs." She spun on the toes of her Christian Louboutin's as the doorman opened the cab door for her.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" he shot at her.

Sitting on the edge of the backseat she didn't raise her chin, only her eyes when she replied, "I'm Donna."

Had the story been told a bit differently, possibly from another point of view, Donna's remark could have held another type of punch. It could have embodied the woman's power of self-confidence. It could have elicited shouts of, "You go, girl!" for shooting down this inconsequential and bland Harvard fledgling.

But that's not how this story goes. Rick heard nothing but a flippant snark come out of her mouth. "And you can go fuck yourself, you bitch," he mumbled to himself.

 

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Running down the hall they both had the same thing in mind, they were running away from the elevators and central stairs; however, through the section of offices on the south side of the building, the old Junior Partner area, there's a fire exit.

"I think that exit is marked, 'Alarm Will Sound'," Mike said low, trailing behind Harvey.

Harvey thought it didn't matter. If they stayed to the outside walls instead of the inside rail, even if they were heard, they wouldn't be seen. He was about to say so when he realized Mike was no longer close beside him.

Mike had fallen behind and Harvey looked back ready to bark at him to get a move on. The sight there had him backtracking. Mike had one hand on the wall and was stumbling. Once Harvey was within a few feet he could see it. There was crimson spreading from under Mike's jacket lapel across his white shirt.

Leaning against the wall, he was pale and breathing hard. Harvey had a moment of panic. His hands went up to the sides of his head as he watched the vertical pool work its way toward Mike's tie.

 _Think, Harvey! Think!_ His hands had laced behind his head as he walked a quick circle. Once again facing the other man he now noticed there was what looked like a rip just over the breast pocket of his jacket. He watched as Mike's blinking became slow, forced. He seemed to be sliding downward. Harvey watched all this unfold in front of him for mere seconds before he snapped to. Mike had been shot.

With his first step forward Mike reached with one arm. Harvey took him in a hug, immediately feeling the tremors working their way through the younger man's body. _Shit!_ _He's going into shock_. Harvey held firm, willing Mike to respond to him.

He felt Mike's arm tighten across his shoulder. He whispered to him, "Come on." Stepping him away from the wall, Mike's weight caused Harvey to trip back. "Can you walk?"

"Give me a minute here," was whispered back.

"We don't have a minute. Can you walk or not?" He was already debating in his mind the best way to carry the younger man. Wondering if a fireman's carry would increase the bleeding. Mike took a tentative step. Heavy in Harvey's arms he was moving forward none the less.

Several paces down the hallway Harvey looked back. He didn't see anyone following them but it was clear this was the way they had come. There was a large smear of blood on the wall where Mike had been leaning. He looked down and was thankful for a small favor, it didn't appear the blood was dripping to the floor. They weren't leaving a trail.

"Harvey, maybe you should leave me here. I don't know how far I can go."

"That's not going to happen." He was running scenarios through his mind. The stairs were out of the question now. There was no way they could make it down. They needed somewhere to hole up. "Do you have your phone?"

"In my pocket?"

Harvey was still leading him along. "Pants, jacket?"

"Pants."

Harvey stopped them and patted over Mike's hip and upper thigh. It was there. That gave them more options. They wouldn't need to find a room with a phone. He worked his hand into the pocket retrieving the device and shut it off. Wherever they landed, they didn't need to give themselves away with a phone ringing. They were coming up on the door to this floor's library.

"We need a diversion," Harvey whispered in his ear. He stopped them at the library, leaning Mike against the door. At the same time he pressed his hand to the spreading patch on Mike's shirt. It came away wet and slightly sticky.

He wrapped his hand around the door handle, leaving an imprint there. He wiped a swath across the doorframe a little below Mike's shoulder level. Pulling Mike away from the door there was a large stain left behind.

Mike stumbled. "Do you need me to carry you?"

The words seemed to break through the fog Mike had been drifting into. "No. I'm good for a little farther."

Harvey maneuvered them away from the library and did his best to hurry them further down the hall, half dragging Mike along. They passed a water closet used by the cleaning crew and a set of men's and women's rooms. All too easy to be cornered in.

"Here Harvey. Let's go in here," Mike slurred as they approached a file room. "There's another door to the far hallway." Harvey marveled at how their brains were so often in sync.

Upon reaching the door Mike tried to get to the wall for support, but Harvey held him firm, held him away from the wall. "Harvey, please."

Harvey wanted to avoid leaving more clues to their location. Another stroke of blood painted across the wall would be a dead give away. "No. No, stay here with me, kid." Supporting Mike as best he could with one hand he checked his other after wiping it down his suit jacket. It still had blood on it, but upon inspection it seemed to be dry.

"Listen to me. I need you to lean on me. Don't touch the door. Don't grab at the walls. Can you do that for me Mike?"

"I think so."

"Good boy."

 _Good boy_ rolled through Mike's brain like a cat rubbing comfortingly along a leg. The simple two words of praise had him near collapse in Harvey's arms. He couldn't stop his head from lolling.

"Stay with me, kid. You can rest in just a few minutes." Harvey hoisted him slightly with one arm. What little plan he had depended on him keeping the other hand clean. Whispering in his ear, "Okay, I need you to hold me tight. Remember. Don't touch or lean on anything but me."

"Okay Harvey."

Positioning them so he could grasp the handle he had a split second of panic when he saw a keyhole in the knob. _Please don't be locked_. But the handle turned easily. The two shuffled into the darkness. Harvey did his best to get the lay of the room and fixtures before closing the door behind them.

He had a thought and felt blindly around behind him until he located the knob. _Yes!_ There was a turn lock, he didn't need a key. He turned the mechanism as slowly and quietly as he could, but in the quiet of the room he thought it echoed as loudly as a slammed door.

His eyes were adjusting to the low light. Another small favor. The emergency exit signs glowed enough to illuminate the layout of the room. He could make out the uprights of shelving. There were tables to his left. More importantly, he could make out another emergency exit sign at the far end of the room.

Mike's grip was slipping. He needed to lay him down. He needed to get to the other door and lock it. He needed to put pressure on the wound. He needed to figure out how the hell he was going to get them out of this.

 

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What could he do? He didn't feel present. Rick could almost hear the adrenaline in his system fizzling away. This had been a chance of a lifetime and it felt the universe had somehow drawn plans against him. Conspired to thwart him.

He watched as the cab carrying the redhead was swallowed into the sea of cabs traveling throughout Manhattan. The doorman asked if he wanted a cab. Rick heard him in the background, but had no idea the man being addressed as "Sir" was him.

He made his way to Morningside Park and the fountain featuring a bear peering at a faun. It was a beautiful piece of sculpture. He had found it the second week after he had moved to New York from Cambridge. He found himself returning during times of upheaval or distress.

There was something gentle he derived from the fountain. He reasoned the bear could hash the faun, but it seemed to him a more pacific moment caught by the artist. The work soothed him.

It wasn't until he had trudged onto a train in the subway that he remembered he was wearing a borrowed shirt and tie. That's alright. It would give him something else to think of. He needed to launder and iron the shirt so he could return it to the young woman in the gift shop.

His focus was on keeping it as clean as possible during the ride home. And the tie. The tie still had a price tag on it. He unknotted it and carefully rolled it and stored it safely in his pocket.

As soon as he was in his apartment he dropped his briefcase to the floor and himself to the couch. He called in to work, last place he wanted be. Next up was searching on his phone for the name and number of the store in the Chilton. Finding the number was easy, unfortunately he hadn't realized how long he had been wandering and the store was closed for the evening.

He washed the shirt in his kitchen sink and hung it in the shower. After a bowl of oatmeal for dinner he dug his hairdryer out from the back of the bathroom cabinet. He managed to dry the shirt to a just barely damp stage and after ironing, rehung it in the bath to spend the night.

Three beers later his phone rang. A check of caller ID had him threatening not to answer. Two more rings and his curiosity got the better of him. "Hello Talia."

"Hi baby."

Rick waited.

"Um...I called to see how your interview went. When will you be starting?" She had a mix of her usual bubbly self cut with a tinge of uncertainty.

"I didn't get it."

"How come?! How could they not hire you? This guy must have seen how great you are."

"I didn't even get an interview."

"What! Why not?!"

"Just the way it goes I guess." He took a long pull off his beer.

"Oh..." She sounded heartbroken. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah. Well."

"Baby? I talked to Daddy this morning."

He didn't answer. Couldn't care less what Daddy had to say.

"I told him we've been talking about a future together, but that you didn't want to make it official until you had a better position. And I told him about your problem with the dry cleaners and how you wanted to make a good impression." She stopped there.

"Why are you telling me this, Talia?" He was exasperated and took another slug of beer.

"He said I was wrong and I should apologize," she blurted out.

"Really." It wasn't a question. It wasn't even a statement of disbelief. I was more an annoyance at stating the obvious.

"He asked me if I would say 'yes' if you asked me to marry you right now instead of waiting for the right job. I told him I would. He asked me if you were man enough to put off marriage until you could provide for me, what was I bringing to the table. He said if we were thinking of marriage we needed to think like a team. We needed to think as 'us' not as 'you and me'." She took a deep breath. "Kinda like what you said when we talked on Saturday."

"You know what Harvey's secretary said to me? Little piece of advice she gave me?"

"No, baby. What did she say?"

"She told me to spend a little time and money on presentation. She made it clear it was important."

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry. Can you forgive me?"

"Not tonight I can't."

That's not what Talia had expected to hear. She was always sure of her having Rick wrapped around her finger. This was out of left field. "I don't know what you mean, baby."

"Don't know how to be much clearer. I'm not in the forgiving mood tonight. I'll give it a couple of days and see how I feel about it then." He disconnected the call. Why did he even say that? He didn't need a couple of days, he already knew he was done with her.

 

The following morning the young woman arrived at the Chilton ten minutes prior to opening time. Rick approached her as she fitted her key in the door. "Good morning."

"Oh! Mr. Interview. I didn't know if I'd see you again," she said with a wide smile.

He had the shirt and tie on a hanger covered by a kitchen garbage bag, a make shift cover. "Good morning. I wanted to return these to you and thank you."

The lock on the door made a popping noise. Pushing the door open the young woman stepped aside allowing Rick to enter before closing the door again behind her.

"Aren't you opening now?"

"In a few minutes. Need to put away my things, turn on the lights, stuff."

He followed her to the back of the store, leaning against the door jam. He handed over the two items. Seeing her again he realized how naturally beautiful she was.

"So, how did it go?"

"I didn't even get an interview."

"You're kidding. What happened?"

"To begin with I was late. When I got up there they had hired someone else on the spot." He wasn't going to tell her what Donna had said about his appearance, not after she had been so kind.

"Oh. I'm so sorry."

"Strange thing is someone who was leaving said they gave it to a guy named Sorkin."

"Yeah? And?"

"My name is Sorkin."

"That's weird. It's not like that's a real common name."

"No it's not."

"You think he said he was you?"

"I don't know. He would have had to say something else when he pulled his résumé out. Think it was someone named Ross."

"Would you excuse me for a minute? Go out in the shop?"

"Yeah, sure."

A few minutes later she was in the shop area with a cash drawer for the register and a letter size envelope. She turned on the lights, prepared her register and opened the door to the hotel lobby.

"Ready for business. Here take this before I forget." She handed him the envelope.

"What's this?"

"Your $40."

Rick huffed a laugh, "I forgot about it."

"Well it's a good thing I remembered," she said with a sweet smile.

"I never got your name."

"It's Kelly. And you're Sorkin?"

"Yeah. Rick Sorkin." He paused for a moment before going on, "I don't think I thanked you properly for your help."

"A lot of good it did."

"Doesn't matter. Takes someone special to help out a stranger like that. May I thank you properly by taking you for lunch?"

"Oh. I'm afraid I can't do that."

He laughed a little. "If you think I can't afford it because I don't have a job...I do have a job. Just not the one I want."

"It's not that. I'm really flattered, but I don't think my girlfriend would appreciate me going to lunch with you." She smiled that smile at him again.

"Oh. I see. Well....uh....I should probably get going. Let you get to work."

"Alright. It was nice meeting you Rick Sorkin. Good luck with your job hunt."

"Thanks Kelly. And thanks again for the help yesterday."

"You're welcome."

 _Dang, she even says 'You're welcome' like an adult instead of the meaningless 'No problem'_ Rick lamented to himself. "You have a good day."

"You too."

And that was that.

 

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People were running, but there was little crying or screaming. It seemed most were keeping their heads. There was a definite flow away from the elevators and accompanying stairs.

Louis had been across town at a client meeting. Donna and Gretchen were sharing a rare lunch out together. Harvey, Rachel and Mike were all working at their desks when the PA system drew everyone's attention. There was a shooter in the building. It was suspected he was heading via elevator to the offices of Pearson, Specter, Litt. Stay calm, stay quiet, do not use elevators, if necessary shelter in place out of sight. Do not approach. Armed. Dangerous.

Harvey was on his feet and running toward the elevator bank, ordering those moving in the same direction to go to the stairways along the perimeters of the building. There was one elevator with the up arrow lit. He stayed by the reception desk for only a moment when he was convinced the tide had been turned away and the elevator bank was empty.

Louis was out at a meeting, it was up to him to ensure their employees were evacuated. Jogging toward the north staircase he came upon Rachel heading toward him.

"Harvey! I saw Mike earlier with his earbuds and now I don't see him with everyone else. I have to..."

Harvey took her by her shoulders, turning her in the direction she came. "He must have heard something. Go Rachel. I'll do a sweep. He probably went down different stairs."

"But Harvey..."

"Go!" He gave her a shove and was grateful he hadn't knocked her off her heels as he turned to run back to Mike's office, Harvey's old office.

Mike and Rachel had survived his time in prison, but not his release. In his efforts to find his niche it became pretty obvious Rachel had a specific husband in mind. One who worked hand in hand with a powerful attorney. Not a teacher. Not a free clinic consultant.

Mike just wanted to be Mike, wherever that may lead. Turned out it led right back to Harvey, but the damage had been done. Although they had broken up it hadn't stopped them from caring for each other.

He ran past the T intersection leading to the reception area and there ahead was Mike running toward him.

"It's clear this way! Let's go!"

The two men ran back toward the T. Mike had managed to get ahead. Three feet into the intersection a shot rang out. Mike spun looking straight at the gunman as another shot was fired. Turning he collided with Harvey. They grasped at each other and reversed direction, running back towards Mike's office and the south side of the building.

Harvey heard several clicks coming from the area of the shooter. Had his gun jammed? Could they be so lucky as to get out of this? They came to one of the halls that bisected the floor east and west. Harvey grabbed Mike's wrist to pull him in that direction.

They soon found themselves at the hall that would lead them back to the reception area. Harvey looked around the corner. He saw no one, but could hear movement. He couldn't ascertain if the sounds were coming from reception or from behind them.

They couldn't wait to be certain and risk being found, they had to chance it. Taking Mike by the hand he pulled the young man down the hall, away from reception. They would make their way back to the south stairs. Harvey let go of Mike's hand and sprinted toward what had been the Junior Partner offices before the turnover. For a brief second Mike didn't let go of Harvey's hand.

Mike needed that split second of Harvey's warmth. He knew he'd been hit.

 

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It had taken a while to reach the floor he wanted. The elevator made close to a dozen stops. At each one the same thing happened; people surged forward to enter the cab only to push back again when they saw the armed man fidgeting with what looked like an assault rifle.

By the time Rick stepped off the elevator the floor looked empty. He heard somewhere to his right, "It's clear this way! Let's go!"

Checking the rifle he hoped it would respond freely again after he messed with it on the elevator ride up. He had made it to the reception desk just as he heard footfalls in the hallway ahead of him. Then there in front of him was his quarry, as if delivered to him. It was Mike Ross running into the open in front of him. He fired.

Ross skidded to a stop. Rick fired again and Ross turned back the way he came, but not before looking directly at him. Rick wasn't mistaken, he recognized him. Recognized him from the news reports, from paper and magazine articles. He also recognized him as the man getting off the elevator as he was getting on that day at the Chilton. Getting on to go to the most important interview of his life. The interview that would change his life. The interview he was a shoe in for. The interview that never happened because this pretender stomped all over it.

He squeezed the trigger again. Nothing. "Fuck." He didn't really know what he was doing with this weapon. Just messing with the moving parts on his way up to the offices had somehow corrected the problem before. He wasn't getting anywhere with it this time though. Looking up he saw in frustration Ross was gone.

When he reached the hallway and looked in the direction Ross had run there was nothing but an empty hall. He didn't hurry, didn't jog. He was taking in the offices of Pearson, Specter, Litt. The law firm he should have been working at.

The offices had floor to ceiling glass walls between them and the hallway. The larger ones each sported a desk, sofa, assorted chairs, coffee tables and conference tables. He stopped at one, leaning inside to get a better look.

There were cabinets all along the windows looking out on the city. Like the other offices he had walked by, the cabinets doubled as tabletops. This one had photos along it of the man he recognized as Louis Litt. There were also photos of cats. Beside a decorative urn was a coffee cup he couldn't see fully, but said in part something about "Litt Up". There was a frame, inches larger than the others holding a group picture.

He leaned back out of the office, looking at the secretarial desk in the opening outside the office. He noted there was a photo there that seemed to be a copy of the group picture inside the office. He continued on as the open area again narrowed to a hallway. There were smaller offices along the corridor.

Busy looking in each of the beautiful private work areas he didn't notice the hall that would take him back towards the reception area. Instead he ended up at a corner office. Didn't need to look twice to see no one was in it. He looked back down the hallway from the direction he came to be sure he wouldn't be caught nosing around someone's office. No one was sitting at this secretarial desk either.

It looked like the occupant of the office had recently walked out. Maybe they went to the restroom. On the desk was an open laptop. It apparently had gone to sleep. He pressed the space key. It asked for a password. He noted there were earbuds plugged into the side of it. He vaguely wondered what was on the playlist.

This office also had the group picture. It was hanging on the wall amongst an arrangement of predominantly architectural shots. He noted the windows behind the subjects and outlines of buildings beyond blending it comfortably in with the other photos of the cityscape.

He was about to go examine it more closely when other frames on the desktop caught his eye. The first was of an elderly woman. It's only of her face but one could see she is looking up to the photographer. She displayed a conspiratorial smile. Join her in the fun and she'll let you in on the secret. She's the gramma everyone wants.

There's one of a family. It is the quintessential American family at the zoo. With a polar bear beyond a moat as a backdrop, Dad looks proud and happy with his lot. Mom is adorable in her Foster Grants. Beaming at the camera, her hands are on the shoulders of the young boy standing in front, pressed to her legs. He's a toe head and has that head tilted a bit to the side. Someone has obviously yelled "cheese" and the kid isn't as much smiling as trying to show all his teeth at once. That is what teeth he had. The front two were missing as of that day.

Rick's eyes drifted to another. This was a double frame hinged in the center. If folded, the two would close on each other. The photos were both black and white, both of Harvey Specter and Mike Ross outfitted in business suits. In one Ross is seen in a side view sitting in a leather and chrome director's chair, head turned to look at the lens, sitting comfortably, his legs crossed. One hand is relaxed on the far arm of his chair. The other in a loose fist tucked under his chin and resting at his throat, elbow on the near chair arm.

Specter stands behind, one knee cocked out to the side. His hand seems to be on the chair back, behind Ross' shoulder. Leaning slightly over Ross his other hand wraps around Ross' forearm as it sits on the armrest. Neither man is smiling, but the humor is there. Ross is wearing Chuck Taylor's that have been colored bright red on this black, white and grey image.

The second photo is of Specter half sitting, half leaning on a glass top desk. Again the picture is taken from the side, opposite of the other. His hands are laced together between his thighs and he wears a grin on his face. No, Rick looks again. It's better described as a smirk. The mirth is all the way up to his eyes, happy crinkles fanning from the outer edges.

Standing behind him Ross is obviously laughing. One hand is on a hip, pushing his open jacket back and behind. The other hand has pinched fingers curled in front of his laughing smile. He's looking down to the floor. Or maybe down on Specter whose suit jacket is also open displaying a buttoned vest and a tie colored the same red as the Chuck Taylors of the paired photo.

They look so comfortable with each other.

He picked it up and noticed engraving spanning across the top of both frames.

        Merry Christmas To: Mike         From: Harvey 2015

Rick looked at the two photos again.

Ross stole this from him.

 

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Downstairs, after he had dispatched the guard and that would-be hero, Rick had intended to take a shot at the redhead. Donna Paulsen was standing right there. He looked her in the eye and in the split second couldn't decide if she recognized him or not.

Probably not. That morning at the Chilton years before was nothing important to her, unless she considered the first time she set eyes on Mike Ross as Earth shattering. Doubtful she ever gave that other guy, him, a second thought. But for him, he could still hear her high heels snapping down the steps and out onto the sidewalk as she approached the waiting cab. He could still hear that dismissive tone in her voice. He could still hear the self importance gliding off her tongue, "I'm Donna."

He wanted to wipe out that smugness for good. He raised the gun directly at her. It clicked, and nothing. The elevator door behind him opened. He stepped back, leaning to the side against the recessed door. The people departing, in typical New Yorker style, didn't even notice the man holding the door and being jostled was a gunman.

He kept his eyes on Donna as he backed into the car. "Hopefully I'll get back to you once I'm done with Mike Ross." The doors closed and he was ascending.

Donna reached for Gretchen she needed a hand to hold, a comforting shoulder. Gretchen wasn't anywhere near. Donna scanned the chaotic scene. Gretchen was coming across the lobby in her direction.

"Are you okay, Donna?" She ran a hand up and down the redhead's arm. "I saw him point that gun right at you."

"Where did you go?"

"When he first started making noise he sounded angry at the information desk, something about Mike Ross. Sure didn't act like he was here for an appointment. " She was guiding Donna away from the elevators. "I was going to tell Jerry when he took that first shot. Told Jerry he had to warn them upstairs," she said referring to a favorite building security guard.

"How did you know?"

"I didn't. After he started shooting I heard him mention Opie again," she explained using her nickname for Mike. "Jerry was just a few feet away from me."

"He would have shot me. I think his gun jammed." Donna was shaking.

"Come on girl." Gretchen had an arm around her.

Both ladies startled when Jerry the security guard abruptly stepped in front of them. "You have to warn them. He's here for Mike."

No further explanation was required. Jerry knew exactly which Mike she was referring to. "We're making an announcement." Another guard elbowed him just as the PA began blaring. After taking the rifle handed his way he said, "Get out of the building, ladies. Stay safe." The two guards were joined by two more as they worked their way through the evacuees to the elevators. They stood guard as they had been trained. Stopping anyone from using the elevators and hurrying along anyone coming out of the landing cars.

There were rings of bystanders and help around both people who had been shot. A man was leaning over the woman, applying pressure, another woman at her head talking to her. The guard was on his back, three people taking turns performing CPR.

Police were now arriving. Sirens wailed on the street. Gretchen took Donna's hand to lead her out the front doors. She tried to break free saying, "No. We have to go up there. They may need help."

"Donna? You're scared and you're not thinking clearly. We cannot go up there. We need to let these people do their jobs." Gretchen now had both her hands on Donna's one.

"I think I know who it is. I think it was someone who came to interview with Harvey the day he hired Mike."

"Do you remember his name? You can tell the police."

"No. I don't remember. I have it in a file upstairs though. I can get it," she tried to turn back again.

Gretchen was having none of it. They were almost out the door. All decisions were taken from them as police officers began herding people out the doors to the right. The woman saw the first SWAT vehicle pull up to the building. The older woman noticed there was no traffic on the street and was impressed with the city's emergency responders.

She sent a little prayer up for all her coworkers.

"Gretchen! Donna!" It was Louis. He had broken through the not yet impenetrable police line, briefcase in hand, running straight for them. "They're saying there's been a shooting."

 

 

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	2. Before and After

Harvey woke with a start. He heard his name. The bedside clock read 2:46. Up and out of bed, bodily he was ready, mentally he was still in a sleepy fog. Mike was standing in his bedroom doorway.

"Mike. What happened?"

"I...I...Nothing really happened."

Harvey's perspicacity had rejoined him as he came more awake. Reaching to rest a hand on Mike's shoulder the young man shied away. Apparently not as awake as he should have been. He was about to grasp Mike's injured shoulder. Seeing him in the dimmed light from the hallway, Harvey couldn't help thinking he looked so very young. Between the haunted look in his eyes and the oddly fitting T-shirt he gave the impression of a kid who had been forced to grow up too quickly.

Harvey had purchased size XXXL T-shirts and sweatshirts for him. His arm was immobilized by being solidly held to his chest. An elastic compression bandage wrapped around most of his torso trapping his arm beneath. Using the sleeve on that side wasn't an option, but being bundled in a snug shirt besides not being able to move his arm had made Mike claustrophobic.

"Mike?" Harvey tilted his head.

"Do you get nightmares? You know. About what happened?"

 _You want to talk about this now??_ But Harvey displayed his relatively unknown ability to practice asceticism. Of course he'd want to talk about it when it happened. "Come on." This time he reached for Mike's waist. Guiding him around the foot of the bed he cut ahead and turned down the covers on that side.

"No, Harvey. I don't have to..." Mike objected.

"It's a California king. There's plenty of room."

Mike looked at the bed like it was a pool of cool water, unsure if he was willing to plunge in. He felt a nudge from behind, urging him. As he sat Harvey lifted the covers for him to get his feet in. "It's enough to offer your bed. You don't need to tuck me in."

"I'm not tucking you in. I'm avoiding further complications." He held the sheet and blankets up, shaking them a bit in a "take it" gesture. Mike took them with his good hand, pulling them to his chest.

Easing in on the opposite side Harvey settled in with a sigh. He looked over to Mike who was intent on memorizing the ceiling. Rolling to his side he slid his hand under his pillow. "They're not as bad as they used to be." Mike looked to him, confused. "The nightmares." Harvey scrubbed his face. "When you were in the hospital I had two on rotation. In one we didn't make it out of the file room." He didn't go into the detail when he said "we" that it was only himself who made it out alive. "The other one, I'm reliving our arrival at the ER. That one pretty much is how it happened, but I was scared. I was sure you had lost too much blood. I was sure I hadn't kept enough pressure on it, that I had done something wrong."

His eyes weren't actually on Mike, they were beyond him, peering out at the city at night. He was hit with the distinct memory of waking in the night, his face and pillow damp. Sitting up, he had taken to keeping water and tissue at his bedside. He would need to blow his nose, wipe his eyes, and take a sip of water before he traded out a dry pillow from the other side of the bed and tried to return to sleep. It often alluded him for the rest of the night.

He shuddered. With one hand under his pillow the other was on the sheet in front of him, propping him up on his side. Mike moved his hand around the void between them until his fingers met with Harvey's. The older man lifted his hand in order to take the fingertips in his own.

"Are they better now?" Mike asked.

"Yeah. Since you came home from the hospital, I don't think I have them as often."

"I'm not home from the hospital." Harvey could see he was again staring at the ceiling. "I'm out of the hospital, but I'm staying at your place."

 

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He'd had enough. That fuckin' blowhard Eric Corman had just finished ripping him a new one. It wasn't Rick's fault Eric couldn't litigate his way out of a paper bag. He had given him all of the precedents, he had briefed him on all of the exclusions. It was all written out for Eric, thanks to Rick. All that was left was for him to go into court and state the obvious.

Rick would have said it was a slam dunk, except Eric had the ball. Eric could get a twenty year prison sentence for a client fighting a traffic ticket. Eric was a blundering idiot whose father paid to keep his law practice going. Paid whatever he needed to keep Eric out of his hair.

Rick was at the end of his rope. He went back to his desk. Taking in and letting out a huge breath he thought to himself _It's time to get this over with._

He reached all the way to the back of his desk drawer, the center one, the one that could become an abyss for any variety of office products. He scattered the pens and pads of Post It notes and staple removers before he could retrieve his goal. Got it.

Only Wayne took notice when Rick first rose from his chair and skirted his desk. He glanced up and immediately saw the gun. "Rick?"

Rick turned toward him. "You should go, Wayne. You don't want to get caught in the middle of this." Rick liked Wayne. He was intelligent and a straight shooter. He and his wife had Rick to their home for dinner. Wayne had told him in confidence the week prior that he had secured a new position. Rick was honestly happy for him. He and Cindy recently had a baby girl. This move would allow Cindy to stay home and raise their child.

Wayne was slowly standing, "What are you doing, buddy?"

Rick brought himself back to the present. "It's time for me to get my life back."

"You wanna talk about this?"

"No. I'm just going to go for it." He didn't want to go over any of this and wished Wayne would just leave. He genuinely liked Wayne and didn't want anything to happen to him. "You need to go, Wayne." Just then Rick saw Wayne's eyes shift over his shoulder. Wayne barely shook his head 'no' at someone behind Rick.

Rick spun. There was Gerin. He was close, halfway to Rick from his desk. Gerin was a dick. The world would be better off without him. "Wayne, please leave."

"Okay, Rick. I'm going." He inched around Rick, giving him a wide berth. "Come on Gerin. Let's go."

"He stays," Rick ordered, haphazardly waving his gun in Gerin's direction.

"Please Rick," Wayne pleaded with him. "Let's talk this out."

"Leave!!" Rick spit as he shouted. It was sharp enough to make Wayne jump.

The picture of his daughter came to Wayne's mind. He could try to be a hero and more than likely not see his wife and infant daughter again. He hurried to the door. As his hand landed on and turned the handle he heard the first shot. He questioned if he had been hit. He questioned if anyone had, it was so quiet. He didn't want to know and rushed out the door just as the gunshots came one after another.

He realized he was running down the hallway. Not until he was in the elevator pressing and holding the close door button did he think he should call 911. There was no signal available inside the car. When he thought he had heard another shot from above he instinctively dropped to a crouch and covered his head.

That was how the group waiting on the first floor for a ride upward found him. Wayne heard the doors part and murmuring. He looked up and saw four, maybe five people staring down on him. None moved to board.

Wayne was up and moving forward before he even registered it. "Get out! Get out! There's someone shooting up there." He was almost to the outside door before he remembered 911.

He looked back after he dialed. No one had moved. They were all just looking at him. "Move!" he yelled at them. "There's a gunman on the twelfth floor!"

Through his phone, no longer pressed to his ear he heard, "911. What's your emergency?"

 

Rick had pulled out the the canvas bag from under his desk. The one that held the rifle and boxes of rounds for both weapons. He glanced at his asshole of a boss. His eyes were open, but unblinking. Stepping over the bodies between him and the door he went through, one more time, how he would escape down the stairs and out the back alley.

People were in the hallway. They looked shocked. "He's in the law office!" he shouted at them. "We need to get out of here," he yelled then ran for the stairs. Others followed him. It was working as planned. He was being engulfed by the onslaught of panicked office workers.

Someone had pulled an alarm. The emergency lights pointing to the exit below were flashing and sounding. By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs and the building's back emergency exit there were more than two dozen people ahead of him and at least that many behind. Stepping out into the sunlight he stayed with the group until he was able to slip around the chainlink fence.

He walked away in no hurry, without drawing attention to himself. He flagged down a cab and gave the driver the address of an office building on 54th Street in Manhattan.

 

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"How ya feeling?" Harvey was walking into Mike's room with a bag of freshly laundered clothes.

"I hurt."

"PT a little rough today?" He was emptying the items into the dresser.

Mike didn't answer. He was studying a bird in the tree outside his window. His arm had once again been bound to his chest, his T-shirt was pulling uncomfortably tight around his back.

Harvey looked to him and didn't like what he saw. Mike's entire appearance was a study in depression. He sat slumped in the hospital chair, jaw tight, eyes dull. Harvey knew he would just as soon be in bed. He found Mike slept a lot. It seemed to be a release for him, a way to hide.

The staff here on the hospital's therapy floor had seen it many times over. When simply encouraging Mike to sit up or take a walk fell on deaf ears they made a fuss about him getting out of bed and at least sitting in the chair he was in now. They had spoken to Harvey, who was there daily, about engaging him. He would often bully the younger man into walking with him or going to sit in the center courtyard.

He would bully when Mike was on the defensive and angry, but not on a day like today. He knelt before the younger man, "What are you thinking about?"

Mike continued looking out the window. Harvey noticed his lips move as though a thought was forming on them. He waited.

Eyes still set determinedly outside, "Will we ever be free of him?"

"How do you mean?"

"I don't know." He took a deep breath and sighed. "Just...Everything."

Harvey sighed. Mike eyed him. Resting a hand on the younger man's leg, he hoped he was reassuring him that he wasn't sighing in exasperation, but rather in frustration. "I hope so, Mike. It's a hell of a thing to live with." He could feel his throat tightening.

They were damaged, pure and simple. Harvey knew what that meant for him. Waking refreshed, brushing off half forgotten dreams had become a thing of the past. Replaced by the nightmares, the ever present fear, the cloud of uncertainty that followed him. He thought of how he persistently looked around corners, of waking in the middle of the night, like a child, afraid of who might be in his closet. It's where he was, but Mike seldom talked about himself, how it was effecting him.

Mike was seeing a therapist to talk through what had happened to him, to them. Harvey had been dawdling. Kept putting off calling Dr. Agard. When he would think of it or Donna would mention it, he would say firmly to himself or her, "Tomorrow. I'll call tomorrow." Donna didn't push it. She knew him too well. She knew if she forced it he could behave like an atypical teenager and shut the whole idea down.

Harvey felt pressure on his hand. He had without thought taken Mike's hand who was now squeezing. Looking up he saw Mike staring at their hands together. He appeared to be studying them intertwined. Harvey covered them with his other hand, breaking Mike's concentration, drawing his attention away, upward to his eyes.

"You want me to walk?"

"You up to it? Think your PT was enough for today?" Harvey wouldn't push him.

He turned his head, "Looks nice out today."

Harvey waited.

"Let's go outside," Mike decided.

Harvey started to rise and reclaim his hand. Mike didn't let go. Instead he was helped to his feet with Harvey again releasing his fingers and Mike holding firm.

"What?" Harvey asked low.

Mike's answer was to step into his space, press his chest into Harvey's. He turned his head, tucking it along Harvey's jaw, resting into his shoulder. Harvey wound his arms around and sighed urging Mike to relax. This wasn't new. Every now and again Mike needed this. And if Harvey was honest with himself, he did too.

Harvey helped him with the front zip hoody. With his arm wrapped to his chest Mike, of course, couldn't put it through the sleeve much less zipper it. Harvey was battling with the zipper, grumbling.

"Leave it open. It's okay. It's kinda tight anyway." Mike's head was down as he watched Harvey's elegant fingers stumbling over one of mankind's greatest and simplest of inventions.

"Got it." He had the look of an attorney who had pulled the rug out from under the opposition without ever opening his briefcase.

Mike chuffed.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What?"

"You're just funny," Mike told him as he turned to walk to the door.

Harvey stayed where he was, arms out to each side of his hips, palms forward, "What?"

"Come along, Harvey. We're going outside." Mike was out the door.

 

The courtyard was surrounded on three sides by the glass windows of the hospital. The fourth side opened to a stand of trees. As long as one didn't explore the edge of the courtyard, it could be imagined beyond were infinite woods. But it was only an illusion. The stand was only large enough to trick the eye from the vantage point of the garden.

There was a redwood bench that easily sat two. Across from it were two coordinating chairs. Harvey would hold the door open for Mike then get ahead of him, sitting on the bench. Mike then had his choice of sitting next to Harvey or across. It was a day he sat beside him. Additionally he hovered in close. Harvey draped his arm across the back of the bench as Mike leaned in.

"So," Harvey began. "Have you thought about what we discussed with Dr. Shermer yesterday?"

"You mean about discharge."

"Yeah."

"Yeah, I thought about it. Don't like it."

"How so? You can't be happy here."

"I'm not, but it doesn't feel right knowing some nurse is going to be living with me. Not to mention finding one." He shook his head.

"I thought about it too and I'd like to make a suggestion."

"What's that?"

"Come stay with me."

"That's really nice of you to offer, but I can't put you out like that."

"It won't be putting me out. It'll be easier than me coming here everyday."

"About that. You don't have to spend your days here."

"Tired of seeing me?"

"No. I just don't want you to think your obligated."

Harvey dropped his hand lightly to Mike's shoulder. "I want to be here."

"What about my place? It's been sitting empty long enough."

"I had Donna go fish."

"And?"

"Well apparently the lease is up in a month and a half for one of the associates and they've been having a hard time finding a new place."

"Why do they need a new place?"

"I don't know, but if you want me to find out I will."

"Are they being kicked out or are they looking to upgrade? I'd like to know."

"So you want to do this?" Harvey raised his hand to stroke the hair back from Mike's forehead to crown.

"I want to think about it. But it doesn't hurt to play along." Mike was doing his Mike smirk, trying to hold back a smile with pursed lips and failing miserably.

Harvey turned his head, pressing his chin to Mike's hair. It was his turn to smile and huff a light laugh. As Mike pushed off and sat up straight Harvey again dropped his hand to the back of the bench. He found Mike to be like a cat. He could nudge in and seek attention and affection. But just like a feline, be done with it without notice.

"I'm tired, Harvey."

Harvey stood extending a hand. Mike waved it off and stood unaided. They made their way back to the room. Mike wriggled out of the sweatshirt while Harvey turned the bed down. He stepped aside and took a seat in the chair. Harvey watched as the young man rolled to his right side and listened as his breaths came deeper.

He was constantly worried about Mike. Spent most of every day with him and thought of him every evening. When he was with Mike as he slept he watched over him, an underlying protectiveness didn't allow him to leave the bedside, at least until he was once again awake. As he slept Harvey couldn't always shut out memories of him lying on the floor of the file room, of sending desperate texts to Louis. He couldn't stop thinking of when he realized Mike had stopped talking, was just staring unseeing.

 

He had to do something or Mike would die there for lack of effort. That last text he received from Louis said only, "Hang tight." He couldn't any longer. He needed to get Mike out. Unlocking the east door, he crept out into the hall. He hadn't taken three strides before the silence of the empty halls exploded into gunfire. He hit the floor covering his head. It was the sound of thunder rolling and cracking loud along the walls. As quickly it had begun it was cut off. All went silent.

When he cautiously looked up, he saw the first member of the SWAT team fifteen feet or so down the hall. "Do not stand! Do not move!"

Harvey blinked at him, consciously trying to only move his mouth, "There's a man who's been shot in the file room."

"Hands on the back of your head!"

"Did you hear me?" Harvey barked back at him.

"I heard you. Hands on the back of your head now! I. Will. Not. Ask. Again."

Harvey complied. His head was down when he heard a second voice. They spoke low to each other. Then to Harvey, "Sir, I'm going to perform a pat down for weapons."

There were hands all over him. He was ordered to roll over keeping his hands upward and away from his body. There was hesitation before the pat down continued. "Sir, are you injured?"

"No."

"Where is this blood from?"

"I told you. There's a man that's been shot in the file room."

A hand was extended to help him up. Not until he was standing did he see the two other SWAT members with weapons pointed at him.

"Show us where the injured man is."

He pointed them to the file room reaching out to turn the handle. He was pulled aside, away from the door. The SWAT members flanked the door. One tested the handle. The door opened easily. Extreme caution was used entering the room, assault rifles held at the ready.

Harvey was kept in the hallway as more of the SWAT team entered the room. He heard, "We have a wounded man here." Then several voices shouted, "Clear," from different points in the room.

Harvey summoned his 'Harvey Specter - Man in Control' voice. "I need to go in there."

He was lead in but blocked from actually going to Mike.

"Who is this?" asked one of the people in riot gear.

"Mike Ross. He's one of our partners." They kept him at bay as several more came into the room. "The shooter..." Harvey asked one.

"What about him?"

"Is he dead?"

"Yes."

 

Harvey roused himself and took out his phone. He spent most of the next hour texting and e-mailing with Donna. They had developed a routine. She made a daily list of questions. Harvey answered most, but deflected a few to Louis knowing he would be better able to answer being as Harvey hadn't been back to the office. He was getting closer to returning, but wasn't there yet. He was making progress as the mere thought of returning no longer made his stomach twist into a nauseous ball.

Mike slept soundly for a good two hours. Slept through lunch. Harvey was relieved he was in a better mood after some rest.

"Want me to call for a lunch tray?" Harvey offered.

"I'd give anything for a decent cheese burger."

"That can be arranged."

"I don't want you having to go out."

"I'll order in. Meet them downstairs. What do you want?"

Nothing ever seemed to be a problem for Harvey. He would fall all over himself to do for Mike. The younger man did his best not to take advantage. Though sometimes irritable, he truly did appreciated all the efforts bestowed on him. It was somewhat surprising Harvey had been so dedicated to him, not only the time spent but also how patient he had been with Mike's rollercoaster moods. Or maybe not Mike thought.

He had sent a reluctant Harvey on his way after their late lunch. Sitting in the chair by the window once more, he had put his iPad down and reflected on the situation with Harvey. He supposed with Harvey not currently going into the office he needed an outlet. For a man who had such contained and slow released energy it was probably easy for him to ride along with Mike's emotions. Besides, being the best closer in NYC he lived a particularly stressful life. What he was experiencing with Mike was nothing beyond his capabilities to deal with.

Mike considered Harvey's devotion to him. He'd had a fleeting question as to its source, but it wasn't that difficult to understand. He was, of course, humbled by the attentions of the great attorney. That the moon and stars and other heavenly bodies had aligned just so in order for their paths to cross at all he would be forever grateful. But this was beyond a glancing work relationship. It had developed into so much more.

The two men had a mutual admiration society going. Mike wasn't blind to the fact they were equals in intelligence; although, one thing he didn't know was Harvey considered him his better in that respect. Mike was lacking in experience, he was well aware. Harvey knew and fully understood and with each step forward he was becoming a force of nature. He was close now to rivaling Harvey in analytic thinking and would soon have enough tools to surpass him.

Sometimes Mike felt Harvey still tried protecting him from emotionally difficult cases. Whereas once Mike would have looked on it as Harvey seeing a weakness in him, now he understood the man was shielding him from hurt. Instead of badgering him to toughen up, Harvey worked around the reality of it. If it was going to take a heartless son-of-a-bitch to win or even move a case forward Harvey would handle it.

Mike knew Harvey had come to appreciate him for what Harvey had at one time thought of as shortcomings. After Anita Gibbs, Danbury, Frank Gallo and what may have been the hardest blow, the loss of Rachel, Harvey recognized where Mike's strength lay. It is there in the very soul of his emotions. They had started as mentor and pupil and had grown into good friends. It pretty much went without saying no matter where their lives took them _they_ would always remain and there wouldn't come a time their appreciation for each other would waiver and end.

Now this experience had bound them together like no other. It couldn't be helped. It couldn't be changed. It was something that could have repelled them from each other. Difficult memories brought to the surface by an offhanded look or remark. Or, as was the case, it could draw them closer together. It could create in the other a source of comfort and understanding. A knowledge only they shared.

And this as much as anything proved a catalyst for sending Harvey to see Mike everyday. To spend his entire day with him. It was a reason he was so reluctant to leave late afternoons or evenings. Harvey had no one else to share this with, to talk it over with. It had become so pervasive, all consuming, he had a need to be with the one person he knew shared his thoughts and worries and fears even if they didn't often talk about it directly.

 

When Harvey arrived home a little before five, he forced himself to pull up a number he had stored in his phone. If there was even an outside chance Mike would come home with him he had to do this. He had to do all he could to be as stable as he could reasonably be. It was important for both of them.

"Yes, hello. Dr. Agard, it's Harvey Specter..."

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Rachel had said yes. She actually said yes. Rick was over the moon.

He and the lovely paralegal/law student had been together almost from the second he walked in the offices of Pearson Hardman. Just as he had been told by Donna that afternoon after his job-clinching interview with Harvey, Rachel had met him at reception his first day on the job. He was smitten the moment he set eyes on her. And it was obvious she appreciated the attention.

Her manner was warm and inviting. Such a contrast to the rigid Harvey Specter. For that matter, she seemed to be followed by an ethereal glow as she walked him through the offices. Everyone in the place seemed myopic and serious in their work. Rachel was lighter than the others, studiously working as this beauty walked amongst them.

She joked and didn't show any hard edges. She took her time and introduced him to his fellow associates. She made it clear if he needed anything she was the one to see; although busy herself, she'd always try to make time.

When they began dating he was almost giddy. Meeting and spending time with her parents felt as relaxed and natural as if they were his own. Well his own if his actual parents had been two other people. He often wished his parents were still alive. Just so he could gloat and prove his father in particular was wrong about him.

Rachel was there to support him with her amiable charm through some of the more difficult cases he and Harvey worked on. Always willing to lend a hand or just a sweet smile of knowing kindness. They fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. No one doubted they were made for each other.

She was attending law school here in the city. At first he was skeptical, thinking she should have gone to Harvard, the first law school to accept her, the school she needed to graduate from in order to take a position at Pearson Specter as the firm was then known. But he relented his efforts at pushing her in that direction when she told him she couldn't leave the city. At least she couldn't leave without him.

Upon graduation she would join her father at his firm, an ambition she long held. Talking it out, they decided it would be best if they worked at separate firms. There wouldn't be a daily competition, nor the issue of spending all breathing hours together or a least in close proximity.

They had married and settled into the first stages of their lives together. They were secure in the knowledge they would be, if not already becoming, one of those couples everyone envied. They had decided after Rachel graduated and had a couple of years practicing law under her belt they would start a family. Two children was their goal. Interestingly neither had a preference for boys or girls. They would happily take what came their way.

He often shook his head. How had he managed to get this woman in his life?

Except he hadn't.

He was daydreaming again.

He never even met her. Only knew of her through the New York City law community grapevine. He heard she and Ross were an item, then had moved in together, then he left her at the alter, the bastard. Did all that before he was sent off to prison. She deserved better than that.

What was Harvey thinking hiring the guy? He had stolen Rick's interview time slot. Sure, Rick was running late, but after explaining things he's sure they would have slipped him in. If Ross hadn't bullied his way past Donna Paulsen everything would be different. Rick's life would have played out the way it should have and Ross could go climb back under his rock to be forgotten by the world, as his life was meant to play out.

But that hadn't happened.

 

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The first thing Mike was aware of was the air. There was too much of it and it seemed sterile. There was no warmth, no depth to it. No aroma of carpet or books or cooking or streets, nothing at all. It felt dishonest.

Next he heard the sounds of machines. Nothing large or laborious. Rather small and modern sounding, hand held machinery. They whirred and clicked and beeped to make their presence known. Their determination to be heard was insidious and in no way assuring.

Maybe he could move away from these contrivances and their tenacious ramblings, go somewhere the air carries particles of life. He tightened his abs to raise himself. He felt awkward and needed to use his hands to push himself up. There was a shot of discomfort in his shoulder. Only one arm was cooperating. The other seeming to be wound up in something. He tried jerking it a bit to free himself and was hit with blinding pain. He yelped and tears stung behind his eyes.

There was a hand stroking him, petting him, palming his cheek. The sensation of breath along his ear curled down his neck.

"Shhh... Lie still, Mike. Don't try to get up."

It wasn't oftentimes he disobeyed that voice and now wasn't going to be one of them. But it hurt. It hurt so badly. "It hurts."

"I know. I know. I've called for a nurse."

Confused. _A nurse?_

"How are we feeling?" asked a sweet sounding feminine voice.

"He's waking up. He just called out and says he's in pain."

He heard the woman say, "Pardon me," before the sounds of shuffling. Then, "Mr. Ross? Mike? Can you hear me?"

He could, she was speaking too loudly. Her volume control was set at seven or eight when a three or four was sufficient. It reminded him of the staff at Grammy's nursing home. "Yeah. I can hear you," he said softly hoping to lead by example. God he hurt.

"Are you in pain, Mr. Ross?" still too loud.

He must have made too much noise. They're mad at him. "I'm sorry. Don't yell at me. I'm sorry." He felt the backs of fingers flutter down his cheek from the other side.

"It's okay, Mike." Another stroke of those fingers. This familiar voice wasn't loud. "No one's yelling at you." He could feel some of the anxiety flow out of him.

Quieter now the woman asked again, "Are you in pain, Mr. Ross?"

"Yeah."

"On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst, how bad is it?"

He didn't know what she just asked him. The pain was so bad he couldn't concentrate. He needed help. "Where's Harvey?"

The fingers again. "I'm right here."

"It hurts."

"A little or a lot?"

That was Harvey's voice. Things would get better now. Harvey will take care of him. Take care of things.

"Mike? Can you tell me, does it hurt a little or a lot?"

"It hurts a lot. Will you get me some aspirin?"

"We can do better than that." It was the woman again. He could hear a smile in her voice. She wasn't angry anymore. "I'll be back in just a minute with something for him."

"Thank you," Harvey replied at the same time he stroked Mike's hair back. "Did you hear that, rookie? She's getting you something for the pain."

Mike tried opening his eyes, but they felt sealed shut. Harvey was to his left at least he thought that's where he was and attempted to inch that way. He was hit with another bolt of pain radiating from his shoulder. It was too much. He let out a sob.

His hand was taken up. He squeezed so hard he was afraid he'd feel bones snap. And there was that stroke again. "She'll be back soon. Hold onto me."

"Stay with me Harvey."

"Not going anywhere." Another stroke.

"Here we are. Mike, I'm going to inject a pain med directly into your IV."

She sounded so far away. How could she give him anything if she's down at the other end of the hall? She was saying something about bringing a morphine pump, but he couldn't hear her clearly. Then she was gone.

"You still with me, Rookie?"

It was Harvey. Mike tried to speak, but his mouth, now like his eyes, wouldn't open. He squeezed the hand holding his own. And there was that brush of fingers again. He wanted to lean into the touch. He wanted to reciprocate, but could only give a weak squeeze of his fingers.

"It's all going to be alright. They said they were able to repair most of the damage. They're going to watch you closely for infection. Head it off if need be. It'll take awhile for you to heal, but with therapy you'll be able to use your arm again. Okay?"

He fell quiet. Mike wanted to hear more. He wasn't exactly following what Harvey was saying, but the pitch and tone of his voice was soothing. Just the knowledge Harvey was with him was reassuring. Again he squeezed his fingers, though he knew it was even weaker than before.

Then he heard it, right in his ear, there was whispering. The words were whispered, yet for him they resonated. "You have no idea, Mike. No idea. I was so ... so worried. That's not even true. I was more than worried. I was scared." A hand up his forehead to his crown. "It's up to me to keep you safe. I brought you into this life you have now. It's...You're more than my responsibility. You have no idea how important you are to me, to my life. You have no idea."

He felt another stroke and thought he would never tire of it. He couldn't speak, but he could smile. When he felt the heat from breath along his ear and neck disappear he wanted to beg for it to come back.

The press of lips to his forehead made him grin wider. It had to be Harvey. Mike was floating off, floating out. It was alright though. There was a tether tied to him. He knew for certain Harvey was at the other end of the line. Harvey would be there to watch over him. He allowed himself to fade without worry.

 

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Working with Mr. Specter had been both challenging and rewarding. Harvey's reputation as the best closer in the city was no exaggeration. The way the man's mind worked was an unexplainable phenomenon.

Rick had never worked harder in his life nor enjoyed his job so much. And under the tutorship of Harvey Specter this wasn't a job. It wasn't even so much a career as a way of life.

Just like that article he had read in New York Magazine, the efforts put in by a first year associate at Pearson Hardman were grueling and thankless. Louis Litt was in charge of the associates and he was a difficult taskmaster. Interestingly he had a certain respect for Rick. Could see Specter had made a good choice in him and was grooming him to dominate.

Rick did get more of a reprieve from Mr. Litt than some of the other associates. He and a handful of others were specifically assigned to senior partners in the firm. They first and foremost worked on cases presented by their partners, but were also expected to devote a certain amount of time to junior partner cases as well.

Almost right out of the blocks, Specter had entrusted him with a pro bono case of a woman who was harassed by an employer then unlawfully discharged. With minimum help from Mr. Specter he won his first case for Pearson Hardman. Harvey, of course was thoroughly impressed with the outcome and knew he could rely more and more on Rick.

Not long after his pro bono win New York law circles were abuzz talking about the dynamic duo's work to save the U.S. manufacturing operation of McKernon Motors. This was why he had become a lawyer. Doing for the underdog. Righting wrongs such as in Clifford Danner's case.

He was there by Mr. Specter's side while the firm road out several tumultuous turnovers. They must have wasted ridiculous amounts on stationary alone. With each change the old stationary was destroyed as new letterheads, envelopes and business cards were ordered. Their IT group were kept busy keeping their visibility and availability in the forefront on the net.

At the time the firm changes over to Pearson Darby, Rick found himself working with Mr. Litt a little more frequently. Though not of the same vein as Mr. Specter, Litt, now a senior partner himself, is well known throughout the city for his financial genius. It was an exceptional learning experience. Something he questions if he could have obtained anywhere else.

But of course he never did get that experience or that knowledge. He was stuck in his Assistant Public Defender's position still sending out résumés. But it wouldn't be for much longer. He could feel it. The sky was going to break open for him and he would shine the way he knew he was destined. The way his father never believed he would.

He too would be involved in international cases such as Harvey Specter's Hessington Oil case. Had he been able to interview and not lose out to... No, he hadn't lost out. His life was stolen from him.

It should have been him.

The subsequent years would have seen him evolve into a star senior associate. More than likely quickly moving up to become a junior partner. There wouldn't be time away playing at being a financial advisor. And there was no way he would have been tried for practicing law without a license, nor any allegations of having not attended Harvard.

 

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Harvey had changed into the clothes Donna had collected for him. She and Rachel had no problems meeting back up with their group. Louis had called to let them know their vigil had been moved from the ER waiting room upstairs to the surgery waiting room.

Sitting on one of the sofa-like upholstered pieces, Harvey had his head in his hands. Donna had taken off her stilettos and was pacing in her stockings back and forth along the windows. Rachel too had taken off her heels and had her feet tucked up to one side on her chair.

Louis was just leaving Gretchen and Benjamin. They had composed a mass mailing to be sent via e-mail to all PSL employees. It gave them a basic rundown of what had transpired. It told of Mike being shot and Harvey sheltering him until NYCSWAT had arrived killing the gunman. It told them Mike was in surgery and as soon as they had any update another message would be sent. It requested they not respond and to not flood the hospital with visits or calls.

Crossing the waiting room to Harvey he took a seat beside him. With a hand spread open on his partner's back he leaned forward to look at the man's face. "Harvey. You need to lie down for a little bit." Harvey lifted his head from his hands to object to what Louis was telling him. What he saw was Louis standing and taking off his suit jacket. "You can lie right here Harvey," he said with a hand urging him to his right. "We'll wake you if we hear anything.

Harvey found he couldn't resist, lying on his side, bringing his legs and feet up as well. He wasn't fully prone before Louis was draping his suit jacket over Harvey's shoulders and torso. Donna had stopped in her tracks alongside Rachel. They watched the two law partners. Rachel's lower lip was quivering and her eyes had taken on a puppy dog quality. Donna looked on, knowing everything had changed.

The three of them all saw Harvey's breathing go deep and knew he was asleep in a matter of minutes. Rachel was the first to see the two men come around the corner into their semiprivate waiting area. Donna and Louis followed her gaze. Louis knew immediately they were cops and approached them.

"May I help you gentlemen?"

"I'm Detective Cerreta. This is Detective Greevey. We're looking for Harvey Specter," stated the older of the two.

"Harvey's not available." The other four heard the protectiveness in Louis' pronouncement.

"And you are?..." Detective Greevey asked.

"Louis Litt. I'm Harvey's attorney." Louis crossed his arms over his chest.

Donna glanced to Harvey sleeping soundly. Cerreta caught the flick of her eyes and followed them to the man sleeping with a jacket covering him. "Is that Mr. Specter?"

Both women's sight bounced to Harvey then back. "Yes," answered Louis, adding, "He's in no condition to be speaking with you or anyone else at present."

Greevey opened his mouth to speak, but his words were trounced on by Cerreta, "How long's he been sleeping?"

"Ten minutes."

"Tell ya what, Mr Litt, was it?"

"Yeah. Louis Litt."

"Tell ya what. We'll be back in two hours. We'll expect to talk to him then."

"That's fine." The detectives had turned to leave when Louis said behind them, "Thank you, gentlemen."

 

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Rick made a plan. It began formulating before the movie credits even began to roll. Sure it looked like hard work but he knew he could do it. And the very first step would be when he returned to his high school Monday.

The next morning, Sunday, he dressed and headed for the woods and his spot along the stone wall that ran forgotten there. These early structures could be found throughout New England. Where they once circummured properties, they now lay mostly abandoned. Some stretches were sturdy and sound as they had been in the 18th century. Others crumbled as the years and uncounted seasons took their toll.

The length of wall he called his own spanned what he estimated in his thirteen-year-old mind to be several hundred rods, maybe as many as four. He walked the length of it many times during summers.

Twenty feet in from the border of maintained green lawn, the temperature of the woods could easily drop fifteen degrees. Rick loved the feeling of stepping into another world. One with its own atmosphere. Away from the modern houses and lawn mowers and planted flower beds and the wrath of his father, the drunk.

His section of wall, two feet high at the lowest point and over five feet along the higher parts, was a good quarter mile into the wood. Dislodging a stone he retrieved a zipper-locking plastic bag which contained a few of his treasures. He removed his journal and a pen then made himself comfortable in the slight indentation that had formed from his past five years of sitting in the spot.

He wrote out the plot from the movie, covering as many details as he could remember. When finished he began to reimagine it with himself in the the part played by Timothy Bottoms. It didn't have the right feel, it seemed forced. He simply wasn't of the same temperament as the protagonist named Hart.

He instead changed the plot as it would evolve with him reacting to the circumstances as himself. He determined his life's path that day. He set his goals and would speak with his guidance counselor the next day about redirecting his course of studies to best prepare him for college then law school.

There was, however, one change to his new narrative of the movie that may or may not be possible in life. He blended a bit of the character Brooks into his personal storyline. He hadn't a clue if he could teach himself to have the gift Kevin Brooks possessed. It was probably more likely one had to be born with it. But if he could develop it, he knew he could put it to good use. He would be able to use it as a tool to help him sort through and analyze staggering amounts of information. Unlike the character of Brooks he wouldn't be a sort of one trick pony. It would move him forward, not weigh him down.

He had spent a good part of the day in this place he wished was his reality. Gathering his notebook and pens he carefully inserted them back in the bag. Before sealing it completely shut he pressed the extra air out.

The bag was back to its cubby and the stone replaced. He stood and wiped his hands up and down his jeans. Backing away to begin his return to the other place where the lawn mowers and flower beds dominate he didn't complete the full one-eighty. His vision wavered as he saw the ground fast approaching.

 _What the ...?_ He had been knocked to his knees. Mind going directly to animal attack, his head suddenly registered the pain there. He could have sworn it had been cracked open. He imagined he could feel the exact spot where the plates of his skull were separating. He touched the area wondering where the fissure was, as it didn't appear to be where the pain was concentrated.

He heard panting behind him. Uncertain how to react he at first didn't want to know what was behind, afraid of what it might be. He was disoriented but couldn't remain in the limbo and slowly turned his head to gaze over his shoulder.

Standing there was his father, weaving from side to side. "You'll never get it, will you? You'll never be Thomas." He spun almost fast enough to turn himself off his feet. Rick could now smell the familiar scent of his father, stale alcohol.

His father had again compared him to Thomas. Why he lived in this competition with his uncle he had no idea. Rick's father Edmund, had secluded himself, his wife Laura and Rick from the rest of their family. Rick had barely there memories of his Uncle Thomas from maybe as far back as before he could walk. What had transpired to result in the separation he didn't know. He only knew he was isolated in his home and his family.

He didn't know if his father had begun drinking then or if he had always been a drunk. He also had no clue if he had family on his mother's side. He had learned not to question long ago. He kept his mouth shut around his father as much as possible. Laying low and avoiding the man was the best and easiest way to not feel the powerful backhand across the side of his head. The one he had come to know when he was five or six.

His mother essentially ignored him. Spoke to him only enough to keep the household running. More often than not leaving notes, which the prior year had graduated to a dry-erase board in the back hall. Rick often wondered if he were the only one alive in his home. He couldn't explain the death pallor that seemed to engulf the house and property.

He had friends at school and in the neighborhood in whose homes he could escape to and learn what normal family life felt like. When questioned by his friends and occasionally, most uncomfortably, by his friends' parents he was nebulous. There was never an invitation to his home to play, for dinner or lunch or just to hang. He kept his family tightly under wraps to avoid the embarrassment and hurt that defined it.

This assault in the woods had blindsided him. His father never took enough of an interest in him to warrant being followed and found. Besides the blow to his head he had been shaken by the fact his private refuge had been discovered and soiled by the likes of his father. It wouldn't be until the end of the week when he returned.

He made notes in his journal and mapped out a path after several talks with his school counselor. With a course schedule for the current year he approximated which classes to take and when in the upcoming three years. He kept his chin up in school and his head down at home.

It all felt better to him. He felt he now had a purpose. His eye on a goal helped enormously when he needed an escape. He didn't shelter himself as often along his spot on the stone wall. Instead, he would stay after school in the library or bike to the town library. He used the public library's co-op program to borrow first year law textbooks from the Boston atheneum. Had them transferred to the little library in Ipswich. Time began to move faster for him and his life was beginning to feel more open, less in dire straights.

 

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"Harvey. Oh my god, Harvey." It was said fast, fast and clipped. It was Louis. "Tell me you're alright, Harvey." He had a hand firmly clasped to Harvey's shoulder.

He could only look up at his law partner. Except for a tremor that would occasionally appear, all physical symptoms of shock had dissolved leaving Harvey feeling lethargic both physically and mentally. He couldn't form a reply to the actual inquiry. Instead he said, "Louis, stop saying 'Harvey'."

Louis sat beside him and wrapped him in a hug, eyes squeezed shut. Typically Harvey's reaction would be to freeze and more than likely roll his eyes. Not this time. His eyes closed and he could feel himself sinking into Louis. He let out a sigh. He was suddenly so very tired.

Louis let go, keeping only one hand on Harvey's shoulder. Looking him over, Louis was surprised at being so relieved to see Harvey he hadn't clearly noticed the mess the man was in. His always perfectly coiffed hair was scattered this way and that. His clothes were rumpled. His shirt was pulled out of his waistband, the front tails spread open in his lap, sleeves rolled up, tie missing. His suit pants looked wrinkled and crushed. Shoes were scuffed and everywhere there was dried blood.

His clothes were covered in patches of it. There were smears across the back of his hands and one spiraling up his forearm. It was dried along his temple with a streak disappearing beyond his hairline.

"Look at me, Harvey."

As his head turned and eyes lifted, Louis could almost read what had transpired while he and Mike hid from the gunman. His eyes were sunken and raw. Below, shadows were just starting to make themselves known. It hurt Louis to look into those brown eyes that were always so expressive and see them reddened and flat.

"You're not hurt?"

"No." He slowly shook his head as his gaze shifted downward to his lap.

"Have they given you any word on Mike?"

"No." He glanced up at the the walls. There were no clocks, probably by design. He realized he had no idea how long he had been sitting there. "I haven't seen him or heard anything since we first got here." And how long ago had that been? An hour? Six hours? Twelve?

"Louis! Harvey!" It was Rachel hurrying across the ER waiting room. She took one look at Harvey and her eyes welled. With her chin quivering all she could say was, "Oh Harvey." She studied him for a moment then asked something she wasn't sure she wanted an answer to, "How's Mike?"

"I don't know. No one's said." Harvey dropped his eyes back to his lap. He knew she meant well, but he couldn't deal with Rachel at the moment. She had a tendency to tears and drama. He was feeling numb and didn't want to break that spell. It was what was holding him together. It was soon broken despite his resolve. Everything was disjointed. He felt off kilter. All of the events seemed to replay in his mind backwards or somehow inside out. It was confused, jumbled and incoherent.

Rachel heard a familiar voice, "Harvey?" It was Donna with Gretchen close behind. She took a seat at Harvey's side, the opposite from Louis. "Come here."

Harvey wrapped his arms around her waist and broke. He didn't think he had any tears. Only one or two had been shed by him earlier in the day and it had been Mike who brushed them away. But now with Donna he could let go. Few people in his life were emotionally safe for him. Donna was one of those at the top of the list.

Donna held him around his shoulders, her hands sliding up to pet his head. As he wept into her neck Louis soothed a hand up and down his back. Rachel looked on, hands together as in prayer, index fingers tapping her lips as tears rolled. Gretchen produced a plastic pack of tissues from her purse and waited for the moment to hand them to Donna. She shook two in front of Rachel.

"Thank you, Gretchen." Rachel dabbed at her cheeks and eyes. She briefly and quietly spoke to the admin who nodded in response to being told they had no word on Mike.

Harvey straightened. Not looking at anyone he wiped at his face. Into his view came Gretchen's hand, offering tissue. He took it gladly looking up at the woman and nodded. He dried his face. Opening the tissue in order to refold it and wipe at his eyes again, he saw it was tinged with red. His tears had reconstituted bits of dried blood on his face. Shards that dried and shattered from his hair had landed on his cheek.

He became fixated on the tissue, the same thought circling in his mind This is Mike's blood. He couldn't stop the recriminations that he hadn't done enough. That if Mike was lying dead somewhere in this labyrinth of a hospital it was his fault. His hands were again beginning to shake.

It was Louis' hand that came into view, covering the tissue, encircling it, removing it from Harvey's hand. "Give me that, Harvey." He dropped it in the wastepaper basket beside his chair. "Do you have your condo keys?" Harvey looked at him blankly. "Do you have the keys to your condo on you?" Louis asked a little more forcefully.

"No. I....No. I don't."

"I have a set," Donna pitched in.

Just then another member of their core crew approached. "How's Mike?" It was Benjamin, IT extraordinaire.

"We don't know yet," offered Gretchen. "How did you know where to find us?"

"I texted him. After we got separated from Louis I thought we should all meet here," Donna explained as she dug through her handbag. "Here they are," she smiled as she held up her prize, presumably the keys to Harvey's condo.

"Alright. Here's what we're doing." Louis was taking charge. "Donna and Rachel. You go to Harvey's and get him a change of clothes. That okay with you, Harvey? That they go to your place?" His speech was classic Louis, fast and clipped.

"Yeah. Okay." Harvey wasn't really paying attention, but he didn't mind Donna in is home.

"Gretchen and Benjamin, go back to the office. See if they'll let you in to access the personnel files."

"What do you want with the files?" Benjamin asked.

"I want to get a message out to all of the employees. I want to make contact with them."

"I can do that from here." Benjamin crouched to the floor opening the padded nylon bag he carried with him. "It will take me a little while to access the server," he said as he pulled a laptop from the bag.

"Okay. You work on that." Then shifting his attention, "Donna. Rachel. Why are you still here?"

"What if there's news about Mike?"

"We'll call you. Now go!" The two women snapped to and headed for the door.

"Gretchen. Go see what you can find out about Mike." Louis turned his attention back to Harvey. Standing in front of him he extended a hand, "Come on Harvey."

"What do want Louis?" Harvey wasn't budging until he had word on Mike.

"There's a men's room right over there. Let's get you cleaned up. Benjamin. If Gretchen gets any information come get us."

"Will do."

"Let's go," Louis again directed at Harvey.

He was having none of it. "I can't go anywhere right now."

Louis could see he was becoming agitated. A slight trembling echoed through the hand sitting on Harvey's shoulder. He gave the man a few minutes, allowed him to settle before trying again.

"Come on, Harvey. Now. We're just going over there." This time Harvey allowed himself to be tugged to his feet and led to the restroom.

It took them a good twenty minutes to wash Harvey's hands, arms, chest, face, hair. The blood was everywhere. Louis stripped to the waist to give the other man his T shirt.

As Louis buttoned his shirt, pocketed his tie and gathered his jacket Harvey stuffed his shirt into the plastic lined garbage along with the myriad of paper towels he used in place of a bath towel. "Thank You Louis."

"You're welcome. Wish I had an extra shirt in my briefcase. Sometimes I carry one."

"Thank you for the T shirt, but that's not what I meant. Thank you for taking over. I don't know how clearly I'm thinking."

"You're shaken Harvey. I'll take care of things." He pulled out his phone. "Donna. You at Harvey's?" .... "No we haven't heard anything yet. Hey when you get there find something you can bring him a couple of fingers of scotch in."

"No. Don't do that. I don't..."

Louis was looking down as he talked on the phone. He ignored Harvey. "Don't forget shoes." He looked up to Harvey, "Want any in particular?"

Harvey was just shaking his head, mouth slightly open.

"How about those slip on loafers you wore when I ran into you a couple of weeks ago?"

"Okay."

"Did you hear that Donna?" ....... "Just a second." He turned his attention back to Harvey, "Who are they made by?"

"Cole Haan."

"Donna. They're Cole Haan. Cordovan. If we hear anything before you get back, I'll call." He went to the door and held it open. "Come on. Let's get back."

 

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Rick was at the courthouse when he saw Specter and Ross, talking with opposing council and client. Rick heard Harvey say, "Gentleman, if you would please direct you attention to our firm's newest Junior Partner, Mike Ross. Tell them what we have here, Mike." As Mike recited the clauses found buried within the bylaws of Jameson Sprockets, Inc. Harvey watched the faces of the two men. As their certainty faltered, Harvey's seemed to bloom.

Before Ross was finished speaking Harvey's attention turned to him. The smug expression he had been wearing had somehow morphed into something else. Though the corners of Specter's mouth curled as they had when viewing the opposition, his eyes became fully engaged as he looked on his prodigy. It could have been pride. It could have been affection. It could have been admiration or wonder. Most likely it was all of the above. Rick just knew that this was a soft smile that was offered to Mike alone.

What he wouldn't have given to have had a successful man be a proud mentor to him. How did the universe decide Ross deserved all this? How was it Ross was given the opportunity to shine. Him and that ability Rick tried to develop in himself. The one the character Kevin Brooks in The Paper Chase possessed. The same one Ross had been born with. Him and that fucking memory of his.

Rick ground his teeth. None of it belonged to this pretender. It was supposed to have been his. In the end none of it mattered. He had been cheated out of so much. It hadn't even begun with the disaster at The Chilton, but as a teenager he had been able to turn the tide in his direction.

 

At seventeen he needed his parents' signatures for college admissions. In all this time, these last four years, no mention was ever made of Rick's future. He didn't know what his parents had in mind, if anything. When he turned eighteen was he suppose to magically know? Was he expected to vacate the premises?

He had gathered all the necessary information and forms for financial aid and available scholarships. His grades allowed him an assurance of being accepted by the cream of the crop colleges. The only thing standing in his way were his parents apathy and lack of funds.

His parents actually spoke to him about the paperwork and his father's refusal to cooperate. With Rick being a minor he needed his father's financial information and signature. Didn't matter Rick had scholarships lined up. The forms still needed to be not only filled out but have the information contained in them verifiable.

His mother did try to argue the point that by cooperating Rick would move out of the house and they would be under little financial hardship, only occasional assistance. Edmund had become enough of a raging alcoholic that he only needed one drink for his belligerence to show itself. No he wouldn't sign. Why bother? Rick was a waste of space who would never amount to anything. The very idea of him graduating from college much less law school was a joke. Now if it had been Thomas....

Several days later his parents had gone to a dental appointment. One of his father's teeth needed to come out and he wouldn't be able to drive himself home afterward. The two were due back an hour or so after Rick returned home from school. He left a note for his mother on the kitchen table saying he was going out for the afternoon, Rick headed to his sanctuary of years before. He hadn't been to the stone wall in two years, hadn't removed the rock camouflaging his hideaway. He instead immersed himself in his goal, obtaining the grades that would see him through college and law school.

When he reached his familiar stretch of stones, it wasn't as familiar as it had once been. He kicked around at the ground and found the indentation where he had sat for so many hours had been filled in with fallen leaves whose corpses had disintegrated. Each new sheet creating another soil layer. One upon another. It was soft and wet and reclaimed.

He had no problems picking out the correct stone to open his secret hold. He was older now and surprised at how reluctant he now was to put his hand into this unknown space. When he was unable to make contact with the contents placing his hand in wrist-deep, he looked about for a sturdy stick to use to fish the items out.

He had the plastic bags open and marveled at the contents, still intact, still dry. There were a couple of toys in one of the bags, jogging his memory of using the little earth movers to dig deep in the ground, building miniature forts in the loam. He leafed through his journal. Reading the musings of a boy who for the most part didn't question, but on occasion wondered how he had ended up with the two people he had to suffer through for parents.

The journal came to an abrupt halt two years prior. Though it wasn't explained in its pages that was when he had gone to Crane's beach with his friend Mark and his family. They were boys with a few too many hormones racing through them. Both of them were just this side of scrawny and couldn't decide if it was a hinderance or not in attracting the girls walking up and down the beach in their bikinis.

Laughing and being teenagers they swam in the ocean and sat on towels close to Mark's parents and little sister, but not close enough for anyone to be confused into thinking they maybe related. They thought they exuded maturity and any young ladies that may happen by would have no doubts they were there on their own. Probably with their own car parked out in the lot. Boys

As often happened at Cranes the sand was hot and the salt water sucked the hydration from their bodies. The two wandered over to the little shack set up selling soft drinks, bottled water and snacks. While waiting in line a voice reached them saying, "Oh my god. Rick? Is that you?"

Rick didn't respond thinking it couldn't be him the man was talking to. When the question came again Mark elbowed him, "Dude. I think he's talking to you."

"Me?" Rick looked around and saw a man approaching, eyes directly on him. He looked familiar and not.

Before he could put anymore thought into it the man was directly in front of him, "You _are_ Rick Sorkin aren't you? Edmund's son."

"Yeah," Rick replied a bit wary. "Who are you?"

A smile seemed to blast across the man's face, "I'm your Uncle Thomas."

"What?" Rick looked to Mark who watched silently and could only shrug his shoulders and turn his palms up in an 'You're on your own' gesture.

Rick's journal didn't track the development of their relationship, his and his uncle's and his aunt's and the cousin's he had never known. It didn't matter that they were all in agreement that Rick should probably keep the whole situation under his hat as far as his parents were concerned. Nor did it talk about equal feelings of happiness and anger Rick's teenage brain tried to sort through and quantify.

There wasn't one paragraph describing Rick finally working up the nerve to ask his uncle what had happened. Why did his father hate him so much? Why was he constantly being compared to the man? There was no documentation of his uncle's look of dismay. The fact he had obviously been gobsmacked.

"Oh god. You don't know," his uncle said when words finally returned.

And no. Rick didn't know he had an older brother named Thomas who had died when Rick was a baby. Who as a toddler had managed to drown in a bucket of water while their mother entertained a gentleman friend and Rick slept in his crib. He didn't know how Rick's father took up drinking and a life of blame afterward. Blaming his wife for the death of his firstborn and blaming his second born for surviving. He had no idea that's when they had been cut off from their families by his misguided and vindictive old man.

It had finally made sense what his father was doing. It all slotted together after hearing the story from his uncle. Rick's father during the worst of his alcohol and drug induced stupors would see his eldest son in hallucinations. His eldest boy of whom he was so very proud. Who outshone that worthless waste of space that was his younger brother.

He tucked everything back into the plastic bags and sealed them to ensure they would remain in perpetuity in their stone vault. But prior to returning the journal to its bag he added a final entry, "Today I killed my parents. Blew the assholes to smithereens." As he replaced the rock sealing his words inside he heard the blast behind him and smiled.

Taking a deep breath he ran back to the house, putting on his face the practiced look of surprise and horror. The garage was it flames. Their neighbor Mrs. Johnson ran to him, wrapping her arms around him, urging him away. He worked up a convincing case of hysteria when the fire trucks came and it became obvious the family car was inside the garage. He yelled and cried and collapsed begging for someone to call his uncle Thomas.

The two bodies were found inside the car, inside the garage, parked over a gasoline leak found on the floor presumably from the car itself. No autopsies were performed. The investigation was rudimentary at best. No one looked closely enough to see how Rick had set it up to spark under the car. The initial blast scattered most of the evidence in all directions. Only a seasoned arson inspector would put it together. To the average eye it was pretty obvious it had been a terrible accident. And no one could say enough times how poor Rick was lucky to have his extended family, his Uncle Thomas' family.

His aunt and uncle were quickly granted guardianship. His financial forms were completed. He finished his last year of high school and moved to Cambridge, excited to begin his freshman year. Relieved to leave his old life and bad luck behind.

The future was bright and inviting. Rick's life was finally beginning. Contrary to what his father said he was destined for great things.

 

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**If you're enjoying this story please let me know with a comment or kudo. Thanks!**

 


	3. Beyond

Harvey had paid for the pizza and tipped his favorite delivery driver handsomely. Setting the pie on the counter he pulled two paper plates from the back of the cabinet where he had hidden them. Without thought he smiled as he worked two off the stack and out of the shrink wrap.

He had had an aversion to the things until Mike complained one night about washing the plates he had served another pizza on. "This is a waste of time and soap," he mumbled.

"Move over. I'll take care of it." Harvey pushed the sleeves of his sweater up his arms. Mike hadn't budged and Harvey looked at the plate in his hand. "It's not even dirty."

"So can I put it back in the cabinet without washing it?"

"No."

"Why not, if it's not dirty?"

"Are we arguing about this?"

Mike just shrugged his shoulders.

"Are you alright?"

"What?" Except he didn't pronounce the 't' and it came out "Whuh?" and he sounded all sorts of put out.

"Let me wash the dishes," Harvey tried again.

"I know how to wash dishes, Harvey," he snapped.

"Didn't say you didn't. But it sounds a lot like you don't want to." Harvey was a little lost here. "You don't have to wash them. You could put them in the dishwasher," he offered.

"Think I don't know how to live with all the modern conveniences?"

"I didn't say that." Harvey placed a hand on the back of Mike's neck. "This isn't about dishes, is it?"

Mike squirmed out from under Harvey's hand and quickly scrubbed the dish then rinsed with a stream of water. "It's just stupid to have to wash dishes after pizza."

The entire conversation had befuddled Harvey. He watched as Mike dried the plates with a floursack towel and put them back in the cabinet. Draping the towel over the edge of the sink to dry he wouldn't meet Harvey's eyes.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing!" Mike ran his fingers through his hair.

Harvey stayed quiet, waited.

Mike began picking at a slub in the the fabric of his sweatshirt. Finally saying, "You should eat pizza on paper plates."

"You don't like my dishes?"

"It's not that. It's..." He sounded exasperated and randomly gestured with his arms, as though that explained everything.

"Tell me. You need to use words." Harvey took a step forward.

"Fuck you, Harvey! Don't ...... Don't do that."

"Then tell me. You're pissed off at me and I don't know why." Harvey was becoming a bit pissed himself.

Mike let out a sigh. He rolled his eyes and looked around, anywhere but at Harvey. "I never eat pizza on regular plates."

Harvey came this close to saying he always does when he got it. "You're still not home from the hospital, huh? You're in someone else's home." Mike's eyes settled on him, relieved. "You want to go home now?"

He looked down to play with the hood cord. "Yeah. No. I mean I can't. We rented it out."

"We're lawyers. We'll kick him out."

"We can't do that! And it's 'she.' You know that." Mike glanced at him sideways.

Harvey was just messing with him. He got it. If it were him, it would have taken much less time before he started feeling cagey. He would tire of living in someone else's household within a week, not after three months. That Mike was only now reacting to his loss of autonomy said so much about him. It emphasized his easy nature, his flexibility.

Harvey's expression and tilted head said it all. He only needed two words, "I understand."

Mike smiled, albeit a tad embarrassed. He knew it wasn't conciliatory, it was true.

"Please don't wait until it's gone this far before you talk to me. Okay?"

"I guess I didn't think you would understand." He stepped forward and gave Harvey a stilted hug. Stiff and unyielding.

Harvey lead by example. He relaxed into the embrace and let out a deep sigh. Mike tipped his head to rest on Harvey's shoulder where he too took in and let out a cleansing breath. "Thank you for everything."

Harvey's only response was to firm his hold a little and with eyes closed, press his cheek into Mike's crown.

 

He roused himself from his memory. He had heard the shower shut off awhile back, but Mike hadn't appeared to join him for dinner. Thinking he hadn't heard the doorbell and exchange with Carlos when the pie was delivered, Harvey made his way down the hall to Mike's room.

Coming around the corner of the open door Harvey's words of, "Hey, pizza's here...," were swallowed back down in his throat.

Mike was standing in front of the dresser mirror in a pair of sweats riding low on his hips. He wore no shirt and was intent on his image in the mirror. Looking a little closer Harvey could see he was touching the scars just below his collarbone. With Mike examining his reflection Harvey's eyes dropped to the scars on his back, along his shoulder blade.

"It's really ugly, isn't it?"

Harvey wasn't sure if he wanted an answer or not. He entered the room, slowly moving up behind the younger man. Standing behind, Harvey too looked at the reflection. He couldn't say Mike was right.

The scarring from the surgeries had certainly left their marks. There was the initial wound which had been opened wider to abrade and remove fragments of woolen suit jacket and cotton shirting; repairs to damaged muscle and bone; the same treatment on the back; then closing the whole mess up. He had developed an infection necessitating it all be opened again with a shunt inserted to drain the wound. Then another surgery for the removal of the drainage tube. Besides the damage done by the gunshot itself, each of the other procedures had left additional marks on him.

Mike touched his hand to the scars again. They definitely consisted of healing scar tissue, nicely granulated, but they were fresh. They were still red and angry, pronounced. Mike captured Harvey's eyes in the mirror. He again asked his question wordlessly.

Harvey couldn't agree. He stepped close to Mike's back and reached his arm around to carefully touch one of the scars himself. Mike tried to shy away. Harvey stopped his sideways motion with his other hand.

As Mike relaxed he allowed Harvey's contact. His eyes focused on the mirror, flicking from Harvey's eyes to his exploring fingertips and back again.

"I don't see them as ugly."

Mike huffed, "They sure aren't attractive."

"No. They're neither." He wasn't sure how to continue. Mike opened his mouth to say something, but Harvey cut him off. "When I look at them I see your bravery."

He hadn't intended to do it, hadn't meant to cause this, but when he looked up from the shoulder again he could see in the mirror Mike's eyes were welling. Harvey slipped both arms around him. Mike closed his eyes as they overflowed. Harvey watched over his shoulder before dropping his forehead into the younger man's neck.

For all Harvey had been working through with Dr. Agard, he wasn't subject to scars. He wasn't the one who would carry the physical reminders. He wasn't the one who had been shot. He was the one who spent everyday wondering if he had done enough, if he could have somehow protected Mike, if it had only been him who had been the target. After all, he's the one who hired Mike. He's the one who perpetrated the lies.

They stood for only a minute with Mike soaking in the warmth from Harvey's chest. Harvey trying to will strength into the other man as he pressed forward. Lifting his head again, Harvey took him by the shoulders and turned him. He only made it halfway around before he leaned his good shoulder into Harvey's chest.

Harvey again circled him and thought how comfortably they fit together. Into Mike's ear he said, "The pizza's going to get cold." It brought a smile. Mike wiped his eyes and broke away. Grabbing a shirt he gingerly slipped it over his head. With Harvey following he exited the room and made his way to the breakfast bar and the pie.

His lashes were still wet when he looked at Harvey and said, "You didn't have to buy paper plates. I was being an ass."

Harvey smiled at him. "If we don't get them too dirty we can recycle them."

Mike laughed honest and true. Harvey thought it was a sound he missed hearing.

 

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Mike bumped into Harvey. He had turned in the kitchen, hand reaching for the fridge. He grabbed a handful of Harvey instead. "Sorry."

"M'hmm." Harvey wasn't fully awake. Since Mike had been with him, living with him, he had become reacquainted with Cheerios. Mike had left the box on the breakfast bar, right next to the sugar bowl. He reached out for it and bumped into Mike. "Sorry."

"No problem."

He took the box with him to the counter, grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and filled it. A sidestep to the refrigerator to pour in milk, then turned to the breakfast bar to sprinkle sugar on top. He spun just as Mike stepped away from the bar, slamming his shoulder into Harvey by way of his breakfast bowl.

"Godammit!" The front of Harvey's T-shirt was drenched as were the front of his sleep pants. The random Cheerio stuck to him.

Mike didn't have a drop on his clothes. Only his hand and arm were dripping in the sticky sugared milk. "Oh god, Harvey! I'm so sorry. Here let me..."

He reached out not really knowing what he was going to do. He still held the cereal bowl in his right hand. Harvey was turning away to put his own bowl down at the same time Mike stretched his arm, left hand taking hold of Harvey's shoulder as he turned. Mike stepped forward into the spilt milk, skidded, and found himself headed for the floor.

Harvey chucked his bowl to the counter. Spinning, he was trying to catch Mike before he went down. He was successful in keeping Mike on his feet. Unfortunately he stepped in the slick mess and instead it was him landing in a thud on the floor.

"God. Damnit!"

"Shit! Are you okay? Here take my hand," Mike offered still holding the bowl.

Harvey took the offered hand, pulling to lift himself.

"Ahhhwowahh!" Mike fell forward to take the pressure off his damaged shoulder, falling in a heap on top of Harvey.

"Jesus Christ! Mike?" Harvey had a hand across his back. Mike was trembling from pain lying chest down across Harvey. "Mike! Are you alright?" Beneath the trembling he could feel the younger man taking in slow deliberate breaths. "Talk to me. Are you okay? Do I need to take you to the hospital?"

"No," Mike squeaked out. "Just give me a second here."

Sliding his hand up and down his back Harvey waited. Another moment and Mike was pushing himself up. He was off Harvey, but not the floor.

Harvey sat up cross legged in the mess. Mike's legs were folded under him, he sat on his heels. In his hand remained the bowl.

"How the hell did that just happen?"

"I put out the wrong hand for you to grab."

"Isn't it habit yet to protect that one?" Harvey was incredulous.

"I didn't want to drop and break your bowl."

"Dammit Mike! Do we have to have another conversation about which is more important to me, you or my dishes?!"

"I'm sorry!" He flipped the bowl to the side.

"Mike..."

"Why are you so pissed at me?"

"Mike..."

"Maybe you need to get laid or something. You're crabby."

Harvey opened his mouth and closed it again, tipping his head to the side. "I'm sorry. Are you alright?"

"I don't know. My shoulder hurts like a son of a bitch."

Harvey stood, dripping milk and cereal to the floor. He extended a hand. "Come on, Mike."

Mike made an attempt but had trouble not being able to use one arm at all. Harvey maneuvered behind him to help hoist him under his arm pits. Barely firming his grip Mike yelped. Harvey instinctively petted his head.

"I'm going to lift you then set you on your feet," Harvey told him as he worked an arm behind Mike's back and under his knees.

"No, Harvey. You'll hurt yourself."

Their heads inches apart, Harvey said low, "Put your arm around my neck and don't argue."

Mike obeyed and was surprised Harvey could lift him with little effort. Releasing his knees, Harvey allowed Mike's legs to ease down to the floor. He didn't let go entirely though. His arm remained high across his back.

Mike's arm remained around Harvey's shoulder. They were still in close when Harvey said, "I'm sorry Mike. I shouldn't have yelled."

"No. You shouldn't have." As Harvey moved to step away he dropped his hand away while Mike's hand travelled to the back of his neck. Pulling him in he landed a soft kiss on Harvey's cheek.

Without being aware he had done so Harvey took him into both his arms. After pressing his head into the younger man's ear he turned his lips to him, returning the kiss to just behind his ear. He leaned back to take in the blue eyes. Mike blinked twice then dropped his eyes down, embarrassed. Harvey cupped his cheek, bending his knees to drop into Mike's line of sight. "Let's get cleaned up then decide if you want me to take you out for breakfast or take you to the hospital."

"You don't..."

Harvey cut him off, "Hey. It's one or the other." Smiling at him he was pleased to see Mike slide into a soft smile.

"Okay."

"Why don't you hit the shower first. I'll clean up this mess."

"I'll help."

"You're going to help by leaving your pants here and not track milk and Cheerios across our home."

"Our home?"

Harvey hadn't registered saying it yet he didn't miss a beat. "Yeah. Our home. It's yours and mine for as long as you live here. Now give me your pants."

"When I said you needed to get laid, this wasn't what I was getting at."

"I'm hurt."

"Stop it, Harvey." Mike was smiling now.

Harvey took a step closer to him, "Stop what." He wore his signature smirk.

"You know. You don't think of me that way."

Harvey again cupped his cheek, "Let me worry about how I think of you. Now come on. Drop 'em and go take a shower." He had backed and stood waiting.

Mike fumbled with the sleep pants. They were soaked through and sticking to his thighs. Only using one hand he didn't hold the counter for balance. The second he wavered Harvey was there.

"Hold the counter." He slid the pants down to puddle on the floor leaving Mike in his boxer briefs.

Harvey didn't watch him leave. It would have been easy to sneak a peek, but he wouldn't do that, not to Mike. Instead he took off his own and used the two pairs to wipe up as much milk as they would absorb.

Having pitched both pairs of pants and his own T-shirt in the washing machine he made his way to his own room. He would fill a bucket and finish the floor when they were done with their showers. Mike's shower shut off and he entered his own bath turning on his shower, thankful he decided to go with the instant heating system over a hot water tank.

Shaved and dressed he returned to the kitchen to find Mike had finished cleaning. "I told you I would take care of that."

"It's okay. I got it." He was pouring himself a glass of water to go with the painkillers sitting on the counter.

"One-handed?"

"Goes without saying. You know how talented I am." He downed the pills and water then began a one-handed fumble with the buttons of his shirt. Harvey stepped up to gently brush his hand away and buttoned his shirt.

"I feel like a little kid."

"Don't. It's why you're here. Could be worse. You could be home with a nurse."

Mike huffed. "I would have been mortified falling on Inga."

"Inga?"

"Yeah. That's the nurse I would have had if I went home, at least that's the one I imagine."

"Blonde and svelte?"

"Not really." Without thinking he lifted his hand to run through his hair.

Harvey watched him grimace. "Okay. We're taking you to the hospital."

"No. Let me give the pills some time to work."

"That means you need food. Let's go."

  
The diner two blocks from the condo was as upscale as the rest of the area. Patterned on the Hopper masterpiece, The Nighthawks diner was fronted by a triangular shaped soda bar in the front and tall wooden booths in the back. The two men had placed their orders and were just hunkering down to their coffees.

"So tell me more about Inga."

Mike laughed and almost brushed him off but had a change of heart. He watched Harvey for a few seconds as he unrolled his flatware from the paper napkin and created his place setting: fork on left, knife to the right of where his plate would sit, and the spoon to the right of the knife. His napkin was dropped in his lap. When done he lifted his coffee cup and leaned back. Mike smiled as he watched this man be elegant and correct in a diner.

Harvey raised his eyebrows, "Inga?"

"Inga was an Olympian," Mike began.

"Athletic," Harvey admired, picturing a nimble gymnast.

"Oh yeah. Very much so. She won big," he took a sip of his coffee before continuing, "...at the 1980 games .... for her country .... Germany .... that she still insists on referring to as East and West."

Harvey was laughing. "What was her event?"

"Shot put."

Harvey almost spit out coffee. Mike didn't crack a smile.

"She's still resentful."

Harvey was now wiping his eyes, "You gonna tell me why?"

"She had to give her medals back. You see through an unfortunate paperwork mixup she was registered on the men's team. No one noticed."

"Even when she was competing?"

Mike leaned forward to emphasize, "Especially when she was competing."

Harvey didn't know which was funnier, the story or Mike's stoic telling of it.

"So as you can imagine, when the truth came out she was heartbroken. That is until she received not one, but two propositions of love. One from her teammate Heinrich. The other from Olga."

"And Olga is?"

"Discus. Russian women's team."

Harvey was curled over in laughter.

Their plates were set in front of them. Mike dove in. Harvey looked on him fondly.

Mike took a sip of his coffee. "You don't know how happy I am not to be stuck with Inga. Today would have been Blood Sausage Tuesday."

Harvey laughed loud enough for people from other tables to turn and stare.

  
"How's your shoulder feel?"

"Little sore. Not too bad though."

"You relax."

Harvey's desk was piling higher and higher with paperwork he went through with Donna daily. Prior to calling her he created one pile out of three toppling on his desk and transferred them to the coffee table. He began sorting into four piles: priority, later, file, and throw away.

"Can I help you with that?"

"Not really. I need to get it sorted so I know what's where. Then I need to give Donna a call." He glanced over to the younger man who was looking down at his lap. "You tired?"

"A little."

"Here," Harvey said as he moved farther down the sofa. "Stretch out."

"I don't want to get in your way," Mike protested.

"I'm really only going to be a few minutes."

"That's okay." He stayed firmly planted where he was.

Harvey picked up the pace and soon had four neat stacks. One went in a paper bag. He would turn it over to Donna for shredding next time she stopped in for a visit. The other three he lined up on his desk. He pulled out his phone and texted Donna, "Unless you have emergency WCB tomorrow."

Returning to the sofa, he thought Mike looked sleepy. Harvey cued up Amazon and began searching. "Anything you've wanted to see?"

"Like to see Moonlight, but I don't know if I'll make it through the whole thing."

Harvey started the next episode in line of Justified. He had been inching his way through the series. There on the screen was the character Quarles, a sadistic fixer sent to Kentucky by Michigan mobsters.

"Who does he remind you of?"

"Oh my god," Mike was peering at the screen. "How have I not seen that before? He looks just like Sean Cahill. That's just all sorts of creepy."

Harvey laughed. Putting the remote down he settled in. A glance at Mike made it obvious the kid was ałready half asleep and slumping. "Mike."

"Hmm?" Mike looked at Harvey to see him with an arm extended. An invitation. He paused for a moment, unsure. Harvey waggled his fingers. With a half smile Mike laid his head down in Harvey's lap. "Harvey, you don't have to..."

"Stop, Mike." He rested his hand on Mike's arm. "I don't have to do anything. I want to do. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Sleep."

With that Mike was squirming.

"You okay? Your shoulder bothering you?"

He was sitting up again. "A little. Not too bad."

"What are you doing?"

"This." Leaning in he closed his eyes to place a quiet kiss on Harvey's lips. Backing away he opened his eyes to see Harvey's reaction.

Harvey's eyes were closed. His mouth was open with his lower lip loose. Mike couldn't read him. Couldn't read him until Harvey began to smile. With his smile he opened his eyes.

There in front of Harvey was sunshine and light. During these long months as Mike recuperated physically and they both saw their therapists to try to heal emotionally the darkness that surrounded them had been oppressive. Things had been getting better. There didn't seem to be as heavy of a pall over them, but it had still been there.

Mike had with one gentle press of lips rolled the clouds away. Light and fresh air washed over Harvey. He curried his fingers through Mike's hair.

Mike was smiling now. He eased himself down to again lay his head in Harvey's lap. After he settled he sighed deeply and a small grim spread across his lips, "I'm glad that's over with."

Harvey could physically feel his heart stutter before his entire being froze.

Mike nestled in a little more. "That first kiss is always the tricky one. Makes the ones to come so much sweeter and comfortable."

Harvey remembered how to breathe.

 

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"Where do we go now, Harvey?"

"I know where I'd like us to go."

"Yeah?"

It was clear from the stance he took Harvey had made a decision. "I'm going to say something that may very well shake your whole foundation."

"After what we've been through, don't you think I'm shockproof?"

Harvey draped an arm across Mike's shoulders, snugging him in. It was warm, and for Harvey, an intimate gesture. When he felt Mike lean into him he couldn't help the smile. Arching his back he looked to Mike who responded by returning his gaze, strong, steady.

That was it. Harvey enfolded him. A mound of heat rolled up his spine as Mike's arms came around him and his warmth permeated through their layers. Harvey nuzzled and pressed first his nose then his cheek behind Mike's ear. He soaked in the strength and feeling of safety from the other man and sighed into the contact, always taken aback at knowing he needed this feeling of security, sought it.

"I love you, Mike." He could hear a sigh and feel Mike relax into him. "I've got this overwhelming need to tell you how much I care," he half laughed. He firmed his hold, dropping his lips to the point where Mike's shoulder curved into his neck.

Mike smiled into Harvey's neck, tightening his hold as well. "But you've already told me you love me. Remember? When we were in the file room? When I said it to you." Mike paused for a heartbeat or two as he recalled the horrible moment when he wasn't at all convinced he would be alive the next day. "It was so important to me that you knew it and knew it right then." He pressed his chest into Harvey's.

"I know," Harvey said as he moved one hand up to Mike's nape, kneading and walking fingertips up into his hair. "But Mike? Did you _not_ hear me say I care? It's not the same thing, ya know? You could at least pretend I just rocked your world." He was laughing.

Mike was laughing now too. He maneuvered his arms out from under Harvey's and held his face in his hands. Harvey's chocolate eyes were roving over him, but Mike only noticed for a moment before his own slid shut midway to land a kiss just to the left of Harvey's mouth. Kissed right where the magic of Harvey's smile happened.

With an extra press of lips still holding either side of Harvey's face, "Why don't you tell me something I don't already know?"

Harvey's lower lashes danced upward as his smile hit his eyes in deep crinkles. How Mike loved to see that. Harvey so often amused himself, but when Mike knew he was responsible for the happiness he saw there, he blanketed himself in it. He treasured the times the two of them caught each other's eye smiling in unspoken understanding. It happened so often from across a room, but not this day. They shared space, shared breath. Committed to memory the patterns found in the other's eyes.

"Okay. I have a bit of a tendentious thought." He took a deep breath, "I'm hoping you'll renew the lease with your tenant, what's-his-name, and stay here with me." Harvey's chin had dropped a minuscule and a muscle in his jaw flinched.

Mike thought he was a bit coy, uncertain. This was hard for Harvey and Mike had no interest in making it more difficult for him. He ignored his estimation and acted as though he hadn't seen it. Carried on. " _She_ has a name. It's Maggie and you should know it. She is one of your employees after all."

"So sue me. I don't know the names of all the associates."

"You know the names of every person in that firm, including the cleaning crew, except the associates. What's up with that, Harvey?"

"It's a way of....Oh....You've been an apt pupil, haven't you? Nice misdirect there, Mikey."

"Thank you. And dude, don't call me Mikey."

Harvey wanted badly to lean in and kiss him, but he also didn't want to push his luck. He moved his arms up to Mike's shoulders as the younger man settled his hands on Harvey's hips. Forearms resting on Mike's shoulders he hooked finger over thumb behind his head. He pressed their foreheads together, "Stay?"

Mike sighed. Not in exasperation, not in anger. "She has two more months on her lease."

"If I had two months on a lease I would be looking for somewhere new."

"Guess you have a point there."

With no conscious effort, Harvey's eyes spoke volumes. Mike could clearly see how important it was to the man. How much he felt he was risking by even broaching the subject. Harvey had built a fortress around his feelings. Mike's own brand of benevolent doting had completely shattered that aspect of himself that Harvey clung to so dearly. What they both thought was business as usual was actually the dregs that were left to him. Not enough to cover himself, only bits and pieces he could hold up for temporary deflection.

"Can you give me a day or two?" Mike asked hoping there wouldn't be a rebuttal.

"Of course."

"Harvey? If I say no, will that be the end of us?"

Mike could see the crushed look shadow over him. He could feel the slight sink of Harvey's posture.

"I'm going to try really hard to not be hurt by that. And the answer is no, at least as far as I'm concerned." Harvey ran his fingers through the short crop of Mike's hair, feeling as it parted along his fingertips. "I guess I'm not doing a very good job of it if I still need to assure you I'm in this for the long run." And there it was. Venturing out into the sunlight for the first time. Enjoying the wash of warmth at the same time being unsure and nervous over the exposure.

"The long run?" Mike's brow furrowed, his gaze didn't waiver.

He was studying Harvey who could almost hear the gears shift off balance inside the man's head. Shift and try to find equilibrium, try to shuffle into sync again. Harvey could see the moment of abandonment. He clearly saw when it became clear the information provided was insufficient.

"What does the long run mean to you?" Mike asked without force, without incrimination. Never mind he would be well within his rights to demand an immediate explanation considering the person he was dealing with here.

Harvey had been so enmeshed in observing the openness of Mike's microprocessor he didn't at first register the question. It had been captured by his brain but set aside in favor of watching this phenomenon, this natural wonder of the world. The mechanism seemed to have hit a pause button and it occurred to Harvey he was up. A response was expected and here he was daydreaming over the hardware rather than listening to the actual output.

"What?"

"The long run. What does the long run mean to you?"

What did it mean to him? This was what Harvey considered a first approach and he had terribly miscalculated this initial response. He hadn't expected Mike to be in the least bit open to discussing this soon much less on the spot. He managed to break his own rule of being two or three steps ahead.

"Harvey?"

"I guess it's my willingness to commit to what could be a permanent outcome. I'm not saying we should get married tomorrow, but I'm willing to see where we can take our lives, together. Let it happen. See where it goes."

Mike's expression proved to Harvey he had passed a test, an important one. Harvey leaned in. Lips several inches apart he paused, catching himself. "May I kiss you?"

"Do you have to ask?"

"Yeah," Harvey said low. "I want to do this right."

Mike smiled. How could he possibly say no to that?

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~¥¥¥~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"You and Trevor?"

"No."

Harvey narrowed his eyes. "Really?" voice sliding up at the end.

Mike chuffed, "Really."

Harvey examined him, looking for the fallacy, but couldn't find one.

"Stop staring at me. He was my best friend growing up. It would have been ... weird." Mike turned his head, focusing over his shoulder. Turning back to Harvey. "Wait. All these years you thought I had been sleeping with Trevor?"

"No." Now Harvey was protesting. "I only just found out you're ... I didn't think you had any interest in that direction."

"That why you never hit on me?"

Harvey narrowed his eyes. "Did you _want_ me to hit on you?"

"No. I never looked at you that way."

"Why not? You know I'm quite the catch." Harvey was starting to have fun.

"I didn't know _you_ were....." Mike rolled his eyes when he saw that familiar smirk on Harvey's face. He was being played with. A bit like a cat who has brought into the house a mouse from the field.

Harvey stepped up and carded fingers through Mike's hair above his ear. Tilting his head back and smiling. "My puppy's all grown up."

"Doesn't mean I don't still appreciate a good belly rub."

Harvey's laugh erupted clear and unguarded. He was still smiling as he was caught up in those blue eyes. He leaned in, made contact between their chests with only a brief pause before turning his gaze to Mike's lips.

He pressed lightly, really only pecks. That is until Mike's mouth opened to maul him, to swipe his tongue through. He held Harvey's head and grasped a handful of hair. Harvey began panting in response to meeting Mike's force with his own.

Mike easily spun him into the sliding door to the balcony. Harvey's brain was working well enough not to resist. Without thought he could injure Mike by placing pressure on him in the wrong place. This of course had nothing to do with Harvey's previously untested and unknown delight in being manhandle.

"More," Mike breathed into Harvey's mouth.

Harvey blinked and pulled his head away before shifting his gaze from one of those crystal blues to the other. His mouth opened and something happened, something he couldn't ever remembering happening in this kind of situation. His mind went blank. He had no words.

Mike pressed his forehead to Harvey's. They inhaled the same sir. As Mike exhaled a huff he said, "I want you."

Harvey again made no protest as Mike took his hand leading him around the dining table, the sofa, and down the hall.

In the bedroom Mike was vampiric in his assault on Harvey's neck and throat. He willed himself not to take too much. Placing a gentler kiss to Harvey's lips he took a firm hold with both arms and allowed his head to drop to the side and back.

"I don't want to hurt you." Harvey's breath was liquid spreading across his neck.

Turning in tight to catch Harvey's soft eyes. They regarded each other, blue and brown along Mike's shoulder, "I won't break. I promise the only way I'll come out damaged is if you walk away right now."

It was spoken breathy and low. It was a switch for Harvey, "Oh god, Mike," and he captured those rose lips. Harvey had a brief thought of them ashen grey, as they had been in the file room, but he forced the thought aside. They were full of life now, with the softness and depth of cotton. He closed his eyes and let a rolling sensation wash over him.

Mike was caught up. He felt a longing build and wind through him. "I need you, Harvey."

He became pliant when Harvey responded, "I want you to know what you are to me. I want you to feel it. You have to know...."

Harvey carefully laid him down. Mike began sliding his arms out of his sleeves. Harvey watched as he cautiously removed his shirt, protecting his left shoulder. Harvey made no moves, no gestures. He only watched and studied. When Mike was free of the cotton he marveled.

Yes, he had been a serial dater. Yes he had bedded more than his share. But no, he hadn't been moved liked this before. He hadn't felt overwhelmed like this before. Mike was like no other in his vast experience. There was no one he had wanted to please like this man.

He had looked at others challengingly. Piqued by them to give him a good ride. But here he had someone with whom he was so in tuned, someone who was in his opinion his intellectual better, someone who was younger, someone he didn't question nor feel any qualms in saying he loved.

When Mike was rid of the shirt he looked to Harvey. He said nothing as he questioned.

"Please, Mike..."

"I'll let you know. If I hurt, I'll let you know." Mike reached to cup Harvey's cheek. "Harvey."

"Tell me what you want."

"I want you to finish undressing me. Then I want to be inside you," he whispered.

Harvey wasn't aware of the groan that escaped him. He wiped his hand along Mike's chest and stomach. His own gut clenched as his hand traveled below Mike's navel. It felt dreamlike. "Do you know? Do you have any idea what this is for me?"

"Yes....I know. For me too." He watched as Harvey unbuttoned his own shirt and slid it from his shoulders. Mike dropped his hand along his waist band as a guide, easily flicking the button of his jeans from the button hole. Harvey took it from there, divesting Mike of all remaining clothing. When he dropped the last of it on the floor his hands went to the skin around Mike's waist. He enfolded him in his arms, head nestled to Mike's chest.

Working an arm out from under his back, Harvey leaned to the side and touched along the tight stomach. He nuzzled into the hair on the young man's chest. It was sparse enough to make it soft along Harvey's cheek. Moving his hand down he ran his fingers through Mike's brush feeling the weight of his penis as his hand travelled under it on its way to fingering along where hip met thigh. He looked to those blue eyes.

"Do you want me to take you, Harvey? Is that what you need?" Mike ran his fingers through soft hair.

"Yes."

"Then come here." Mike positioned the man along side him. Rolled him to his side while kissing the back of his neck and shoulders. "Will I find condoms in the drawer here?"

"M 'hmm."

Mike sat up, taking care with his shoulder and opened the nightstand drawer. He returned with two items, Harvey was now lying on his back watching him intently.

"Okay. If you don't relax and let me take care of what I can manage without hurting myself this isn't going to work."

Harvey sighed and rolled his eyes.

Mike just smiled down on him, took in his lovely face. Cupping that face in his hand as he leaned forward for a kiss. "To show you I'm serious, I need you to take off the rest of your own clothes for me. I'd rather save my shoulder for when it really counts."

Harvey smirked. Now they were talking. He got to work.

Lying naked on the sheets he had a moment of uncertainty. Mike was young. And even without months of any appreciable workouts besides physical therapy he was muscled and taut. Harvey was firmly in middle age. Then he felt himself melt with the next words from this young man.

"I only imagined how handsome you would be. I was wrong. You are so much more than I dreamed." With that he leaned forward to suck in the skin along Harvey's collarbone. He supported himself on his right elbow while fingering Harvey's nipple with his left hand.

"O 'hh. Mike." Harvey felt he may slip into full babble mode as his balls were lifted and the vein traced up to his sensitive glans.

Mike maneuvered down to Harvey's stomach running his fingertips up the furrow alongside his hip. As Harvey curled from the tickling sensation Mike was quick to brush his hand over the flexed abs, felt the hardness there and watched as Harvey's penis bobbed.

"Look at you," Mike huffed into Harvey's ribs. He sat up bringing the lube with him. He only used a small dollop to work Harvey's entrance. "Has it been a while?"

Harvey was covering his eyes with his hand, but nodded affirmative.

"We'll be careful."

Another nod.

Mike was gently working two fingers inside of Harvey's entrance. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Then he huffed and laughed.

"What?"

"I'm so much better than okay."

How Mike loved that smile. He rotated his wrist feeling with his center finger. He found the nub causing Harvey to jolt.

"Jeezus."

Mike released his hand from the warm inner velvet to break open the condom.

"Let me."

Mike handed it over and Harvey rolled it onto him.

Squirting another small amount of lube along the top of his sheathed cock Mike moved to kneel between Harvey's thighs. Lining himself up with his left hand, he supported himself with his right. "Are you ready?"

"Oh yeah," he managed to emit through the wide smile.

Mike pressed in. Harvey gasped and grabbed for his ribs. Mike watched as he sunk further inside, taking it slow until he reached his hilt. There was a furrow between Harvey's brow that Mike caressed with his thumb the kissed.

"Oh, Mike."

Mike smiled down on him, "You good?"

Harvey answered by grasping at his hips to lift him then draw him down and in. As he felt Mike's pubes brush his own he lifted his knees higher and spread them wider. Lifting his pelvis he met Mike's rhythm.

The contrast between Harvey's tight clench and heated slide found Mike knowing this wasn't going to last long.

Most of his upper weight was supported on his right elbow and shoulder, now beginning to fatigue. He slipped lower enjoying being able to kiss Harvey and nuzzle at his neck. He listened as Harvey's breaths went from deep huffs to panting, was enjoying each... and his arm collapsed.

"Oh god." Harvey wrapped tight around his waist. "JeezusMikeAreyouokayWeneedtostop," tumbled out of his mouth.

Mike started laughing, had a hard time getting it under control. His head beside Harvey's on the pillow, giggling like a child.

"Are you _laughing_?" He was this close to not asking but demanding answers.

"I'm still inside you hard as a thuringer sausage and you say, 'We need to stop'? Are you out of your mind?" He burst out laughing again before leaning in for a kiss, hoping it would wipe away the stress from the other man's face. Another kiss on his cheek and, "On your knees."

"Are you sure you're..."

"Now." Mike was having none of it.

Harvey was on his knees, dipped down on his elbows before realizing he just hopped to an order given by Mike. As he felt him manipulate his way back in he lost all semblance of clear thought. Their rhythm built to a speed Harvey couldn't match. Mike was pounding him. He opened his eyes for only a few seconds to see his hands fisted and full of sheeting.

He let go with one hand to clasp himself. He only completed a few strokes before Mike slowed, moving one hand from the firm grasp he had of Harvey's hips to urge Harvey's hand away. He didn't slap or snatch at it, only encouraged him to release himself.

If he was going to ask so nicely how could Harvey refuse the request. Mike again sped his thrusts. Harvey couldn't put his finger on what changed. Did Mike's penis harden even more? Had it heated? There was a shift the seconds before Mike stuttered, pressing firmly inside, tightening his hold of Harvey's hip bones. He pressed in deep and held, before letting out a sigh. Harvey could feel a trembling emanating from Mike's hips pressed so firmly to him.

"Come here," was whispered behind him accompanied by a gentle tug to his shoulder.

Harvey raised himself and was immediately surrounded by arms. They pulled him back, pulled him close. The left side was noticeably weaker than the right and had dropped down to stroke his dense penis languidly. Kisses were pressed in behind his ear, into his neck, along a shoulder. An overheated breath flowed down his chest as Mike pulled out.

Harvey had a sudden and overwhelming sense of loss. He chased back with his hips, longing to recapture the feeling of connection. Was that a whimper? Had he actually whimpered at the loss?

There was a voice in his ear, "Sshh...Relax with me." Mike's hand was now stroking the hair back from Harvey's forehead. Since being home he hadn't had it cut as often and it was longer than his normal. He was glad of it as Mike ran his fingers through and over it. His head lolled back and to the side, exposing him.

Mike's head immediately dropped to the open canvas of his neck. He painted it with his tongue. Flitting along the slope to his shoulder and back toward his neck. Before reaching the junction he opened his mouth wide and bit down firm, but not sharp into the muscle. Harvey startled, eyes flashed open, and waited for the pain, for the sting. There was none.

Mike licked over the area then blew air over it. Harvey was reduced to a full body shudder. He felt a bruising, not actual pain. It had a quiet throbbing sensation to it. He had been marked. He took hold of one of Mike's hands and kissed. He nuzzled into it asking to be petted. Mike obliged for several moments before pushing away.

"Lay down Harvey."

Again, without question, he obeyed. As he stretched out Mike had removed the condom, tied it and dropped it in the bedside wastebasket. He scooped up a shirt and was now leaning over Harvey's form, lying face down in the mess of sheets. "Spread your legs for me." Harvey had no will to do anything other than what he was told.

As Mike wiped the extra lube from his cleft, from his perineum and thighs he ruminated on how freeing it was to give himself over. He was always in control. He enjoyed the random challenge, but always, always dominated in the end. Not this time. Mike led him, guided him and made demands of him and he followed willingly. He felt a tightening in his gut, a quiet flicker of involuntary muscle spasm. He smiled as he realized Mike gave him butterflies.

Mike was finished tidying him and himself. Lying on the bed beside him, Harvey looked to see a wide smile across his mouth. He studied the beauty of his profile.

"I need like ten or fifteen minutes."

Harvey's first thought was _For what?_ Rolling slightly to lay a hand on Mike's stomach he was quickly reminded, and unconsciously rutted his still unrelieved hard-on into the mattress. "You got it."

He lay there leaving Mike undisturbed. Watching the younger man immersed in his afterglow, one hand atop Harvey's own rested on his stomach, the other palm up on the pillow with his arm wrapped across the top of his head. Two thoughts ran on a continuous loop through Harvey's head, _You own me. You fuckin' rule me._ He was humbled and grateful for it.

 

Mike laid on his back recounting the exquisitely cautious manner Harvey had handled him. He had prepped him with care and kept well to his right side. Well mostly. He took time to touch his healing wounds, to kiss them and, Mike could have sworn, admire them.

Mike had been self conscious even after recalling the evening Harvey had come into his room while he cringed at his disfigurements. But Harvey touched and kissed and smiled at the scars. Never wincing or shying away from them. He had been trying to accept Harvey's assessment of them. Harvey saw them as a reminder of Mike's courage, even if Mike thought he hadn't been brave at all. But now, with Harvey's direct attention on them he didn't feel the urge to hide them and told Harvey so.

Without a flinch or hesitation Harvey looked at him directly. "You earned them. You need to try to be proud of them. They are physical affirmation. Proof of what you've overcome. There's no reason for you to be ashamed or anything other than proud of them." Harvey studied him for a moment then thumbed along his temple. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

By the time Harvey was through with him he could only lie there with what he was certain was a derpy look on his face. He felt he was floating on a dream, finding it hard to believe this sense of warm blush wasn't only a figment, wasn't only an illusion found in sleep.

He felt cared for, acquiesced to, admired, appreciated. And, being male, just as importantly, he felt he had been thoroughly fucked. Mike never found himself out of sync. Harvey had lead him to a second orgasm with his perfect balance of give and take.

"I want to hold you," he whispered before gathering Mike in his arms. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm good," he whispered back, settling into the little dip where Harvey's shoulder and chest converged.

Harvey only remained for ten minutes or so before he was climbing out from under what was developing into a rejected feeling Mike. He didn't want to ask, didn't want to sound clinging, but heard the words coming out of his mouth before he could tamp them down, "Where are you going?"

Harvey was stepping into a pair of jeans. After pulling an old Harvard T on he padded around to Mike's side. Kneeling down he fingered through Mike's tussled hair. "I'm of the opinion you're going to need one of your pain pills. And since you aren't to take them on an empty stomach, I'm going to scrounge around the kitchen to see what we have to make you a late dinner."

"You don't have to do all that. I'll just come get a piece of toast."

"I know I don't have to, but I want to. It's up to you if you come out and watch or wait here for me to bring it to you." A kiss was placed on his forehead.

Before he was out of the room Mike called to him, "Harvey?"

"Yeah?"

"You know I love you too, don't you?"

"I know."

 

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"What are your thoughts about work?"

They were having dinner, sitting across from each other at the dining table on the balcony. Mike had been setting the table out there more often. When questioned he said he wanted to take advantage of the remaining warm weather. With fall leaking into the tail of summer, the nights were becoming cooler. It often found them dining alfresco in woolen sweaters or sweatshirts.

"Need to get back to it at some point." Mike leaned back in his chair, took a pull off his beer and looked out over the city. "What are you thinking?"

"Thinking it's going to be hard going back to the office. Hell, going to be hard just walking in the building."

"Me too." He was picking at the label on his bottle.

"Thought I'd take a test run." Harvey was drawing designs in the remains of the masala sauce on his plate.

"How so?"

"I don't know. Go in, look at my desk. Stop by Louis." It was Harvey's turn to gaze over the city.

"You want me to come?"

"I'd like that." Harvey could see a ghost over Mike's features. He took a guess, "I'd love if you come with me, but don't feel you have to if you're not up to it."

"I don't know if I am or not." The systematic removal of the label from his beer bottle had hit an area of excessive glue. Without looking in Harvey's eyes he said, "I don't think I can handle remnants."

"I know I couldn't. Donna said Louis and Gretchen arranged for the carpet to be replaced and the entire floor has been repainted."

Mike was taking him in now. Trying to judge if Harvey was masking, but found nothing. "We could say hello to Louis, Gretchen ... Benjamin and take Donna out for lunch."

"What about Rachel. You can't pass her over."

"How about we go on a day she's not there. She probably still has a day class or two," hopeful.

"Mike....Come on....We can't do that. Why don't you want to see her?"

"She's been calling me...... a lot."

"Oh. I didn't know that." Harvey took a pull off his own beer.

"I know. I didn't tell you."

Harvey turned his head and only glanced at Mike before turning away again and taking another swallow of beer.

"I was going to tell you."

"Yeah?" still staring beyond the railing.

"Yeah," Mike said forcefully. He could feel the charge on the air. But it wasn't the now familiar Tesla arc that habitually passed between them. "I wasn't trying to hide anything from you. It's only become a problem in the last week or so."

"Problem?"

"She started calling a couple weeks after I got out of the hospital. And you saw it, she visited at the hospital almost as much as Donna. But she would call, you know, just checking in. Seeing how I was feeling. But it's been amping up in the last couple of weeks. Last few times she's been pushing for dinner. Says she wants me to see her new place."

If he ran a fingernail from side to side he was able to dislodge the parts of the label never meant to be parted from the bottle again.

"And?"

"And I get the distinct impression she'd like to start up again, her and me."

"Have you thought of it?"

"I used to. Before any of this happened." He waved vaguely at his shoulder. "Or any of this happened," waving between himself and Harvey.

"It's what you wanted. Wanted it for a long time." Harvey was now studying the label on his bottle. He glanced at Mike's, all wrinkled and half removed, and dismissed it as messy. A little too free form for himself. So perfect for Mike.

"I really thought we wanted each other for each other. Ya know what I mean? For who we are not what we are. Not the trappings. But I was wrong about that. And I didn't see it until there was a fundamental shift. She really wasn't happy with my teaching stint. And the clinic? That's when it really was driven home. My income wasn't what it had been and no possibility of coming close to what I had been earning." Another swallow off his beer.

"She kept asking if it was good enough for me. Kept saying she just wanted me to be happy. Asked if I would be happy giving things up because I wouldn't be able to afford them anymore. Asked and asked and asked until I realized, she wasn't asking about me. She was telling me about herself." His eyes flitted to Harvey. Wondered if he had always been this good of a listener.

"So. Yeah. I've started skipping some of her calls and I'd like to avoid her."

Harvey set down his bottle and leaned over the table, hands clasped before him. "Are we on?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are we going to try to make a go of this? Make an honest effort?"

"I thought we were?"

"Want my opinion?"

"Yes."

"Let's go to the office. Walk around. Say hi to people. Including Rachel."

Mike opened his mouth to speak, uncertainty all over his face.

Harvey plowed on, "I'm committed to this effort. To you and me. I have no problem staking my claim and being sure everyone has a clear understanding of it."

"I don't want you to be mean to her."

"Mike. Give me some credit. I won't be mean to her."

"I don't want to hurt her feelings."

"Maybe that can't be helped."

"Harvey..."

"I'm going to be blunt here, Mike. Boo hoo baby. She had ya but she lost ya." Mike's eyes were a little wide but he continued on, "I want you in my life. I want you to be the most important thing in my life. Rachel had her chance. From what you said I can tell you there is a huge difference between her and me. I want you because of how different you are from me. I would be proud to have you by my side if you continue on with the firm, decide to stay home or, I don't know, get a job at the zoo. You compliment me. I know it for a fact and I don't give a damn if people don't see that from the start. And isn't that the point of the whole thing? Bring out the best in each other? Fill in the gaps? For each other? Not for everyone else? So let me show that. Let me let everyone know how I feel about you."

 

The elevator doors opened and Harvey extended his hand in a 'you first' gesture. Mike looked to him extending his own hand. His landed on Harvey's waist. Smiling at him Harvey placed his to Mike's lower back and guided him from the lifts toward the reception desk.

One of the receptionists raised her head and said in surprised delight, "Mr. Specter! Mr. Ross! It's so good to see you!"

"Thank you, and you too, Karen." She thought Mike was always so sincere.

"Nice to see you as well, Karen." Harvey was so handsome.

"Mr. Specter. Mr. Ross," Linda nodded at each of the men when she completed a call transfer.

"Hi Linda," Mike said enthusiastically.

"Linda," Harvey greeted with a nod of his own.

"Would you like me to announce you?"

"No," Harvey answered. "We're just going to wander around. Thank you, ladies."

Harvey's hand remained on Mike's lower back as they made their way in the direction of Louis' office. Karen elbowed Linda and tipped her head toward the men. Linda nodded her head upward, acknowledging Karen's gist.

They passed Rachel's office on their way to Louis. Harvey could feel some of the tension under his hand melt when they saw she wasn't inside. Harvey's hand went up to his shoulder, snugging him in, "Relax, kid. I'm right here with you."

"Louis?"

"Oh my god. Harvey. Mike. Come in." Louis was around his desk and approaching with his arms out in no time. Harvey extended a hand. Louis used it to pull him in for a hug. Harvey's mind went back to how good that hug felt when they were in the hospital.

Mike couldn't help smiling wide. Harvey wasn't pulling away, rolling his eyes or looking lost in the embrace. He remembered an analogy he knew Louis used to describe himself and Harvey. They were like Ralph E. Wolf and Sam Sheepdog. Cordial and friendly off the clock; adversaries and competitors while on. Mike understood their dynamic had changed since Jessica's departure and would continue to evolve. He enjoyed seeing Harvey like this.

"And Mike," he moved to take the young man in his arms.

Mike's eyes went wide and he unconsciously froze. He heard Harvey say, "Careful with him, Louis. He's not fully healed."

"Much as you have a hard time understanding, I'm not an idiot."

Harvey watched, grin plastered on his face as Louis gingerly took Mike in his arms. He knew Louis was handling him gently when Mike visibly relax.

"Are you feeling alright Mike?"

"I'm still a little tender, but I'm good."

"Sit down. Both of you sit down." Louis noted Harvey held out an arm to Mike who stepped in under it and allowed himself to be guided to the sofa.

He watched as Harvey kept a hand on his shoulder and quietly asked, "Good?" once the younger man was seated. When satisfied Mike was comfortable he circled around the coffee table and took a seat next to him, close.

It passed through Louis' head it was funny, because they looked like a couple. Harvey playing a doting partner. He pulled his desk chair close and took a seat. He saw Harvey's eyes light on the chair anchoring the coffee table. Louis hated that chair, it had come with the office and he hadn't gotten around to disposing of it. The one time he sat in it was during a new client meeting. When they were through and it was time to stand and shake hands Louis couldn't rise from the damned thing. It pitched his ass so low and knees so high he had no choice but to roll out of it.

"I wish you had let me know you were coming. I have an appointment with Fassbinder in fifteen."

"That's okay. We really just wanted to stop in. Haven't been here since...the shooting."

Louis saw Mike tense at the use of the word. Never one to tiptoe he barged along, "It's gotta be hard coming in here."

Harvey acquiesced to Mike, dropping his ear toward his chest and grinning at the young man. Mike flustered a little before saying, "Yeah. I wasn't sure I wanted to come."

Harvey placed a hand on his neck and kneaded it lightly, still smiling. Mike looked to him before smiling back and directing his gaze downward. Harvey's attention went to Louis who had no problem understanding the wordless comment, ' _This is incredibly hard for him.'_

"So we aren't going to be hanging around for too long." His hand had moved down to take Mike's in his own. "On our visit list are Gretchen, Rachel and Benjamin. Then we were going to see if Donna can join us for lunch. So far Rachel and Gretchen weren't at their desks."

"All three of them were in the kitchen a few minutes ago. I swear they're drawing plans against me." He looked nervously over his shoulder towards the hallway. Mike and Harvey both laughed.

"You think that's funny? I shouldn't let them congregate like that."

Mike looked to Harvey who was looking at Louis with unabashed affection.

"Louis? Thank you. Thank you for taking care of everything. Thank you for giving me, giving us this time. You don't know how much it's appreciated," Harvey said sincerely.

"Funny you should say that. I was going to call you in the next day or two to talk over Dewhurst's reorganization."

"Why don't I come in, say, on Thursday. Oh wait. You have a doctor appointment on Thursday, don't you?"

"It's alright. I can manage on my own."

"No. I'm not not going to drag him away from you," Louis interrupted. "How about Wednesday?"

"Sounds good," said Harvey after checking with and receiving a nod from Mike. "What time is good?"

"I don't know. When the three of them are finished synchronizing their watches I'll have Gretchen check. Do you have a time in mind?"

"Nope. I'm open."

"Great." He checked his watch. "I'm sorry to say this, but I need to head over to the conference room."

"Don't be sorry. We know this was unexpected." Mike was inching forward on the sofa. When he was at the edge Harvey dropped an arm across his shoulders and said something in his ear. Mike nodded and stopped his forward progression as Harvey rose to his feet. He again circled around the coffee table and held out a hand to Mike who took it with a grateful expression.

With Mike standing Harvey glanced out the large glass wall. "Looks like Gretchen's back."

Louis went to the door, "Gretchen. Come in here please."

"Well if it isn't Andy and Opie. How are you gentlemen?"

"Yeah. They're fine. We need to set an appointment with Harvey," Louis cut in.

Mike just went on like Louis wasn't in the room much less barking an order. "It's good to see you, Gretchen."

"Not as good as it is to see you, chile." Gretchen was no pushover, but she could be as sweet as a teddy bear.

"And you," directed at Harvey.

"Hello Gretchen. Good to see you too."

Mike started unobtrusively driving her toward the door. "Let's go check the schedule for them. Give 'em a minute alone."

"Have you thought about when you're coming back?" Louis asked.

"Yeah. Haven't made a decision though. I was worried about how I'd feel coming back here. You know, just being in the building. But it's alright. Kinda surprised. Let's talk about the when and for how long on Wednesday."

Gretchen stood in the doorway. "Pardon me gentlemen. One call and I'll be able to reschedule your only meeting to the morning and you'll have the entire afternoon for the two of ya."

"Thank you," Harvey smiled.

"Good. We won't be rushed." Louis had gone to his desk and was gathering papers to sort then resort.

"I'll bring lunch," Harvey offered.

"Sounds good." Louis was following him to the door.

"Harvey?" They were stopped just this side of the doorway. "What's going on with you two?"

"Why do you ask?" Harvey thought this could be fun.

"It's just ... It looks like the two of you are ..."

"Are what, Louis?"

"You know."

It wasn't fair considering Louis had taken on the lion's share of running their firm. Harvey smiled at him. "Yeah, I know. And we are."

Louis looked out at Mike laughing with Gretchen. "He looks good. Take good care of him."

"I've been doing my best."

"It shows. And Harvey?"

"Yeah."

"Congratulations. You look happy."

"I am happy."

"Not exactly what I was expecting, but I'm not surprised. You two were always... Anyhow, see you Wednesday." They were in the hallway now, near Gretchen's desk. "Good to see you Mike." A smile was his reply. "I'll try to make some time to see the two of you."

"We know you've been busy. Did you know Jessica's coming into town in a couple of weeks? We can all get together then." Mike was already running it through his head if they should have dinner at home or go out.

"That'd be great. Let me know when and where." Louis placed a hand between his shoulder blades. "Take care, Mike. We miss seeing you around here." With that he was hurrying down the hall.

After Gretchen declined their invitation to lunch Harvey was leading them toward Rachel's office. Mike paused for a minute, he had Benjamin on the phone. He wouldn't be able to join them for lunch, but he'd run up to Donna's desk to say hello. Mike laughed. "You don't have to cover for her. We know she's been using Harvey's office."

Light knocking on her door found Rachel looking up from her computer. "Harvey. Mike. I wasn't expecting to see you." Harvey again cast a hand for Mike to lead the way into her office.

"Here let me move this." She had come around her desk to collect a stack of files from one of the chairs.

"Leave it. We're just stopping in on our way to see if Donna can join us for lunch," Harvey said, still with a hand on Mike's back.

"It's good to see you. You look good, Mike." This triggered Harvey's possessiveness and he moved his hand from Mike's back around to his hip.

"Thanks, Rachel." Mike was smiling, sincerely happy to see her.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited. I've been so busy. Between school and here I ..."

"Didn't know how much work we did around here, did ya?" Harvey teased. Rachel's laugh petered out as Harvey reached to brush errant hair from along Mike's ear, before noting, "I've actually been working hard to keep this one comfortable." He smiled as his hand went around Mike to pull him in snug. When Mike returned the smile Harvey gave him a peck on the temple. Mike was surprised and delighted, he could only take in Harvey's beautiful brown eyes and smile wider.

"Seriously though, Rachel. Thank you for your hard work. The extra work. Thank you for being one of only a handful of people who I treasure and appreciate for taking such good care of my firm while I've been out. While _we've_ been out."

He promised Mike he wouldn't be mean. What he couldn't promise was not to hurt her feelings. "This whole thing has led us closer to each other and for that I'm grateful to all of you. Grateful Mike and I have been able to spend this time together." He was looking at Mike, snugged him in a little closer.

His attention went back to Rachel, "Hey. I know you wanted Mike to see your new place, but how about you join us for lunch today? Can make plans for your place while we eat." Harvey was smiling, he knew she was going to try to pass on lunch. He continued, "You know what we could do? A round robin of dinners." Then conspiratorially, "We'll talk Donna into starting it."

He looked to Mike who agreed, "Sounds good to me."

Harvey was laughing, "Come on Rachel. Let's go." He turned Mike to the door, not giving her an easy out. He looked back. She was still standing there obviously trying to get her bearings. Against the front of her desk, mouth open, her eyes were sweeping the floor in front of her, left right, left right.

Harvey pulled them up in the hallway and said low in his ear, "It's okay, I'm here." He cast his eyes to the office again then in Mike's ear he whispered, "Go to Donna. We'll catch up."

Back in Rachel's office she looked at him, anger barely held in check. Slamming a manila folder to her desk she obviously glared at Harvey.

"I meant what I said about the extra time and effort you've put in." Keeping himself under control even though all he wanted to do was slap her. Open handed bitch slap.

"I'll be skipping this luncheon," she fumed before moving around to the other side of her desk.

Still smiling, _that_ smile Mike would say, he stepped closer to her desk. "Look Rachel, you had your time with him. It's someone else's turn."

"So .... What .... You gonna use him and throw him out?"

"No. I have no intention of ever letting go."

"Oh ... Yeah right ... That's just like you Harvey."

 _In Mike's case it's more like you_ , his mind offered. "I have a desire."

"That doesn't surprise me." She hadn't taken a seat. Her arms were crossed in front of her. Defiant.

"If this is going to be problem between the three of us, you should let me know as soon as possible. I'll happily write a glowing letter of recommendation for you."

That took the wind out of her sails.

"I've been caring for him. I've done everything I believe I can to help him through this. I have no intention of leaving him to cope without the person who has been with him since the bullet hit him. Don't turn this into a competition. For his sake, back off."

She eyed him, head slightly down, lips pursed.

"Grab what you need. Donna will have a hard time saying no to hosting a dinner if we're all staring at her." He flashed his infamous Harvey Specter smirk.

 

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Harvey surprised himself by his propensity to want to mother-hen Mike. He felt he had a claim on the the man, which he did to a certain extent. Unfortunately for Harvey, even after these years they had been together, he was new at this part. He had always been protective of Mike, but now he had deep seated drive to be his guardian.

He wasn't coming at this from the POV of someone encouragingly taking baby steps. How could he? Those steps had been taken years ago. Mike was no longer a kid in any sense of the word. Directing that incredible mind into a state of focus had been accomplished. Mike's speech had matured, his lingo had grown up. There had been so many personal ups, but Harvey didn't know if, and could only hope, they outweighed the personal downs. The man had gone to prison, had put himself in harms way to do what his conscience demanded. He had won and lost the girl of his dreams, realizing almost too late the girl didn't actually match the dream. He had been shot, nearly killed, nearly disabled. By some terribly off color humor of the universe, he had _only_ been maimed.

It was actually Harvey who needed to test his legs, take baby steps. Of course he didn't see it in himself. He was so wound up in feeling responsible for Mike's wellbeing he was losing sight of the individual involved. He had an orbital drive to do everything he possibly could to ensure the rest of Mike's life would be as carefree and safe as he could provide.

And Harvey wanted nothing more than to provide for him. Wanted to cloak Mike with his desire to protect him, even if that protection was from Mike himself. Put simply, Harvey was gun-shy.

They were going to have to agree to some rules, Harvey would insist. Harvey may have run roughshod over him in the beginning to push Mike into realizing his potential. But now he may need to put his force-of-nature will to use protecting Mike from dangers of Mike's own making.

"Are you out of your freakin' mind?"

"Harvey, I survived a gunshot. Riding a bike is a walk in the park."

"No, Mike. A walk in the park is a walk in the park."

"You really expect me to give up riding my bike?"

"In the streets? Yes."

"Promise I'll be careful, Dad."

"I'll drive you to the park. You can ride on the paths there."

"Like a play date? No thanks, _Dad_."

"Stop calling me that!"

"Stop treating me like a child!

"I didn't watch over you in that goddamn fileroom just to have you die in the street!"

Mike opened his mouth to snark, but closed it again. It was coming clear. He was slightly abashed as he pushed the veil of anger away. Really taking in the man in front of him, he could see all the signs he knew so well. He could check them off.

Pursed lips, ✔️  
Staring, ✔️  
Flared nostrils, ✔️  
Hands balling in and out, ✔️  
Short, quick breaths, ✔️  
Vibrating from tension, ✔️

Mike took in and let out a cleansing breath. It was a crapshoot which would be the best way to approach this. He let the lottery balls of possible approaches slot into place.

Stepping forward he grasped Harvey firmly by his biceps. "Harvey? Take a breath."

"Let go of me!" He swung one arm forward and up, the other, well we don't know, but he was free of Mike's grip.

Mike had felt the hard and stagnant knotting of Harvey's muscles. He was now seeing dew drops of sweat along his forehead. He could hear the short, almost panting sounds of his breath. Instinctively he took hold of Harvey around his shoulders. "What did Dr. Agard tell you to do?" Harvey was headed to a full blown panic attack. "What did she say?"

"Breathe deep through my mouth." This was strained and thin.

"Okay. Breathe with me. Okay?" Mike kneaded his fingers which were now on the man's sweat-dampened shoulders. He leaned in, his lips close to Harvey's ear.

Harvey nodded and did his best to tune into the sound of Mike breathing in his ear.  
"Nice and deep, Harvey. In then out."

Harvey tried to mirror the cadence, stumbling at first, unable to tune into Mike's breathing. Everything was disjointed. He felt so off kilter. The last few minutes seemed to replay in his mind backwards or somehow inside out. It was confused, jumbled and incoherent. But as the minutes passed and Mike's hold began to feel pliable rather than restricting, he was able to calm enough to match Mike's rhythm.

"That's it. Follow along." Mike ran a hand up and down the length of Harvey's back. "That's it. Let's go sit."

Mike led him to the sofa. Leaving him there he told him not to move. Returning with a damp towel he wiped Harvey's face and throat. A gentle hand urged him to lower his head and Mike laid the cool cloth along Harvey's neck.

"Relax." One hand on a shoulder, the other smoothing ungelled hair. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been such an ass."

"You don't need to be sorry. I overreacted."

"Can we talk about this?"

"Yeah. Just give me a minute."

Mike leaned in to kiss the top of Harvey's head. He'd give him more than a minute. He would give him all the time he needed.

Mike understood. His instincts were as hard wired to protect and comfort Harvey as Harvey's were to him. It was going to take them time, lots of it. But they both knew they would settle. This was just the beginning of the long run.

 

 

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**Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it.**

 

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